Echoes
by Tegan1
Summary: During the Christmas holidays, Hogwarts is attacked. Sequel to Dark Land, though it can be read as an independent story. SSHG Romance [Complete]
1. Then and Now

  
  


Echoes 

Disclaimer: Everything recognizable from the Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, no infringement is intended to any copyright holder 

Rated: R for violence and sexual situations 

Summary: During Christmas holidays, Hogwarts is attacked. Sequel to Dark Land, though it can be read as an independent story. SS/HG Romance 

Chapter 1: Then and Now 

"Ronald Weasley, stop it this instant!" Hermione shrieked as another snowball pelted her in the back of her head. 

Trudging through the newly fallen snow, Hermione, Ron, and Harry made their way back from Herbology with Professor Sprout. It was a sunny, but cold December afternoon. The sun reflected brightly off the newly fallen snow that rose to Hermione's calf as she stomped heavily with her black boots, her breath misting in the crisp December air. 

Hermione smiled and breathed in deeply. Her surroundings felt fresh and pure. The white snow covered the dirt and grime of winter, and gave the barren trees a brilliant glow. It was cold, but her cloak kept her body warm and the sun baked her face. 

Herbology was their last class before Christmas break. 

Suddenly another large, speeding snowball hit Hermione from behind, splattering soft mush down her thick cloak. She turned sharply to see Ron smiling innocently at her. Hermione could tell he was up to something. She glared at him suspiciously. The next moment, she was assaulted by a bewitched snowball that exploded just above her collar sending wet snow down the skin of her back. She yelped and jerked forward from the cold sensation. Shaking the snow out of her clothes, she feigned a scowl. 

"Playing dirty, are we? We'll just have to see about that," she glared at him. 

"You'd better watch it Ron, or she'll hex you something nasty," Harry warned. 

"Ugh," Ron said as he grabbed his heart and fell over backwards into the soft snow. 

Hermione laughed loudly. Ron could be absurdly entertaining. She adored his free spiritedness, and found most of his antics endearing. 

In the distance, she saw Ginny waving to them. Most probably, she was waving at Harry, but Hermione returned the favor smiling. Running ahead of Hermione, Harry called back, "I'll catch up with you later," as he made to join a very pleased girl. 

Hermione's smile widened as she watched them laughing and flirting all the way to the lakeshore. 

Ron stepped up his pace to move next to Hermione walking closely. She smiled and bumped playfully into his side. 

Their jovialness turned serious as Ron pleaded one last time, "Why don't you come to the Burrow with me this Christmas?" 

"I spent practically the whole summer there Ron, I don't want to be a nuisance." 

He stopped moving and put his gloved hand on her arm. 

"You're hardly a nuisance Hermione," as he said this, his eyes moved up to meet hers. "My family adores you, and I would love to have you there," He stared at her with such deep feeling, Hermione became quite uncomfortable. 

She looked down at her feet and kicked bits of snow around, silently collecting her thoughts. 

"You know I would love to spend Christmas with you, as much as I would my own family. You and Harry have always been like brothers to me. I love you both." She hoped this clarification of her feelings would end their conversation. 

Ron's face went dim with rejection. 

She continued, "But with things the way they are, this is the safest place for me right now. I would never wish to endanger myself or your family with my Muggle presence." 

Hermione sighed. She hoped his heart was not broken. She truly loved Ron, just not as he wished. It had taken her some time to find out how he felt about her. His strange show-off behavior only confused her, until Ginny pulled her aside one day and explained that it was all done for her benefit, to get her to notice him. 

Hermione thought of the Burrow and of her own home, as they walked in silence through the snow. The Burrow was a magical home with a ghoul in the attic and enough family to fill a house twice its size. Wild, ruleless games of Quidditch and unexpected explosions would be common place once Fred and George arrived. Such liveliness and love were hard to pass up, but even more difficult was being apart from her own parents. Her mother was not nearly as maternal, in the traditional sense, as Ron's, but she did love and support Hermione in every way she could. 

When Hermione had gone home for the holidays, nearly three years ago now, she and her parents had visited museums and art galleries. They encouraged her love of knowledge and spent many hours learning and experiencing together. Her time at home involved more Muggle education than most Muggle children received in an entire school year. Christmas dinner would include only her parents and herself, but it was loving and quaint. They had a tradition of placing a new ornament on the tree every Christmas Eve. 

Both homes were so different, yet both held places in her heart. It saddened her to be separated from the people she loved. 

Professor McGonagall had appealed to the Department of Magical Transportation, so that Hermione could receive her Apparating License early. Hermione had hoped that by Apparating, she would be able to spend a day or two with her family this Christmas holiday. But now, even a day at home was too dangerous. 

She glanced over at Ron who still appeared discouraged. 

"Come on," she coaxed. "Your train doesn't leave until 5:00, we still have time," and she trotted in the snow down to the lake by Harry and Ginny, her cloak and loosely dangling scarf floating behind her in the cool breeze. 

The pair smiled at her and Ron, as they formed the ears of a very short, wide snow goblin. A long narrow nose stuck out and magically blinked green and red. A huge pot belly filled its short stubby body. Snow seemed the perfect medium for the goblin image. 

"Your ear is too round Gin. Look at Harry's," Ron said motioning towards the tall pointy lobe Harry was forming. 

Hermione stared out onto the water. Wide thin sheets of ice surrounded the shore. Further in, chunks of unconnected ice bobbed with the wind. She remembered the last time she had really looked at the water. A deep sadness took hold of her, when she thought back to that night. The lake had been unnaturally calm, but his words were harsh and cruel, 'You are confusing love with loneliness and desire.' Hermione winced as she remembered his voice. She had been hurt more that day than she would ever admit. 

Shaking the unpleasant thoughts from her mind, she looked at Harry and Ginny as they spent more time gazing into each others eyes than sculpting their creature. They were obviously in love. Neither had ever mentioned that they were dating, but Hermione could tell by the way they treated each other. 

Ginny gave Harry a sly grin and flicked a bit of snow at his face. Harry responded by charging at Ginny and tackling her into the snow. Kneeling by her, he threatened to cover her head with a large snowball. Their deep stares, playful smiles, and frequent touches all spoke more than words ever could. 

She wished she could feel as happy in love as those two. 

Unfortunately, love does not always bring happiness, as Hermione well knew. She had been in love only once. It was a deep, thought-provoking, breathtaking love, and she had felt this with only one person, Severus Snape. 

She and Professor Snape had been sent to an alternate universe, where time was unmoving. That still, dark world was void of all living creatures. They had been forced to rely on each other, and they had become close, too close. Hermione had been such a fool. She threw herself at him, and he had taken her. But soon they returned to reality, where they could not be together. He was her professor and she, his student. In this world, he had no interest in continuing their relationship. 

Initially, she had convinced herself that she had been lonely and confused. But as her feelings of loss lingered, she came to realize that her pain was that of unrequited love. It was because of this love, that she could not return Ron's affections. 

It had taken poor Hermione a while to return to her normal state of independence; longer than she had expected. She was able to act herself soon after, within a week or two, but an emptiness haunted her for months. To own the truth, these feelings of loss and emptiness had never completely subsided. She truly loved Snape, though he felt differently. She thought of him often remembering his soft touch, spicy scent, and silky hair and voice. Yet, these were nothing to his thoughtful stares, and his sarcastic wit. She missed him still, even months after their separation. 

Classes with him had been awkward. Hermione never spoke or raised her hand unless absolutely necessary. Her need to please and share her knowledge did not extend far enough to allow herself to speak easily in front of him. 

She was jolted from her thoughts by Ginny informing them, "It's getting late, we should be heading back." 

And so the quartet laughed and giggled their way towards the castle. 

"I can't believe Snape gave us a test, on today of all days." Ron complained as they walked back to the castle. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I wonder at your surprise, since he has every year for the past seven." At least the mention of his name no longer brought up feelings of dread. 

Ron hurmphed. 

Hermione knew Ron's complaint was not with out merit. The other professors realized that focus and concentration the day before Christmas break was impossible. Professor Flitwick had the seventh years help him decorate for Christmas, placing Angel Charms on various trinkets. The items sprouted wings and flew gently to rest on the needles of the large fir trees in the Entrance Hall. Professor Sprout had them pruning small harmless Jiggler trees in the first year greenhouse. Even Professor McGonagall did not try and pull any real knowledge from the students on this day. 

As they entered the castle's hallways with the suit of armor caroling, the four were far too engrossed in their thoughts and laughter to pay much attention to anything. Unexpectedly, they were almost run down by a very tense, very angry looking Snape rushing out of Dumbledore's office. His face was hard with frustration, his knuckles white with tension. 

He glared fire down at them as he sneered, "Students wandering the halls when they should be preparing to leave, I see. Five points from Gryffindor for loitering." 

As quickly as he had spoken, he strode away towards the dungeons, robes billowing behind. 

"He's not much for the Christmas holidays I see," Harry remarked. 

Ginny smiled slightly squeezing his arm. 

Though everyone was a bit flustered by this encounter, Hermione was the only one worried by it. Snape was always bitter and angry to the others, but she had enough experience watching and observing his subtle facial expressions to know when something was wrong, and by what she had just witnessed, something was seriously wrong. She had a feeling she knew the reason for his unease. 

Tensions were mounting in the Wizarding world as Voldemort's reign of terror continued with a vengeance. Since the beginning of their school year, the situation had worsened. 

In early November, the Dementors abandoned their posts as guards of Azkaban. Voldemort's strongest supporters were held within its walls. With no bars or captors to hold them, the prisoners, at least those still in their right minds, escaped. The Dementors' absence also held an ominous sign as to which side they had chosen. They were pure evil, draining the happiness and hope from humans, but they were not stupid. They had always gone for the easiest prey. So in held their bargain with the Ministry, which allowed them to feed on the condemned. However accessible the prisoners of Azkaban had been, they were not as tasty as the variety of victims Voldemort offered. Throughout November, bodies of catatonics, empty shells of people, had been found. Most were ignorant Muggles, but several known enemies of Voldemort were among the victims. There was now no question as to which side the foul creatures had chosen. 

For the past two or three weeks, Voldemort and his followers had been quiet, too quiet. They were planning something. 

Hermione looked over to see a portrait of a family gathered by a Christmas tree. The father held his youngest up to place a star on a high branch. They turned and waved warmly at Hermione, who became saddened with thoughts of her own family. 

The troop made their way up the main stairs and through the long corridors to Gryffindor Tower and the portrait of the Fat Lady. Muffled chatter and noise seeped through the wall. 

"Wattlebird," Hermione said and the picture opened up to reveal a mad house of rushing students. 

The common room was a hustle and bustle of people flinging luggage and animals here and there getting ready to board the train home. Almost everyone was preparing to leave. Besides Harry and herself, only Dean Thomas and a third year were staying for the holidays. 

Dean and the other student were Muggle-born like herself, and felt it best to avoid endangering themselves or their families. 

The commotion was nearly overwhelming. Hermione was amazed at the sheer number of bags people thought necessary for a short visit home. She was certain they had some clothes and supplies at their homes, that they needn't bring everything back with them. Hermione decided that unless it became riotous, she would not intervene. 

Taking a seat by the fire, she ignored the ruckus as best she could. 

She was intrigued by how easily she could now ignore chaos. She did still notice annoying little habits. Her attention to detail had improved significantly over her three months in the dark world, however the awful feelings of anxiety that these things use to cause her, had subsided considerably. 

She glanced around and spotted a very upset cat hiding under a table in the far corner of the room. Crookshanks must have become curious and made his way down here. His mistake had forced him to take shelter from the many large pieces of flying luggage that were being piled and shoved into disorganized heaps throughout the room. 

His bright orange fur was standing on end as he hunched up, claws out, hissing at the oblivious people and belongings that passed by. 

Hermione walked quickly to him, "Oh poor old boy, let's get you upstairs." 

She lifted the large fur ball, and he clung to her shoulder, his head hiding in her robes. 

Crookshanks had been her one confidant during her time of adjustment. He would listen and not condemn. He was also the only creature in the world she could tell. She and Snape had agreed to keep her involvement, their involvement, a secret. She was glad that at least one other living soul had heard her out, so that she hadn't been completely alone, her thoughts building up inside. 

Hermione looked over at a group of very confused first years. She sighed and went to help. 

"My Remembrall is red, but I don't know why," a thin, pale girl said timidly. 

Hermione helped the girl search through her bags pulling all sorts of clothes, and trinkets out onto the floor, until she realized that she had forgotten to pack the pin cushion she had transfigured for her mother. The girl ran upstairs to retrieve her forgotten present. 

Professor McGonagall soon entered to tell Hermione it was time to organize the students, so they could board the coaches for the train station. 

Hermione turned to Ron saying, "Wait on the platform, so I can say goodbye, all right." 

He gave her an affirmative nod and ran upstairs to grab his bags. 

Hermione had the students line up by year in the common room. She sent the eldest first, through the portrait hole, in a long line of large trunks, smaller bags, thick cloaks, hooting cages, and meowing baskets. 

She waited by the portrait of the Fat Lady until it was the first years' turn to board. She helped the younger students levitate their bags and load them onto the coaches. 

As she rode with the children to the train station, Hermione watched as the leafless trees swayed gently in the breeze and the sun slowly sank lower in the sky. She wondered how so much can change, yet still remain the same. She sighed heavily hoping that next Christmas, she and her family might be reunited. 

As Hermione said goodbye to Ron in front of the Hogwart's Express, she smiled and hugged him tightly. 

He boarded the train, and Hermione watched his image flicker in and out of sight as he moved to sit near a window. 

The train began steaming and she waved. 

"I promise to owl you something besides a Weasley sweater," Ron shouted out the window as the train eased forward on its tracks. 

And as they waved their goodbyes, the trio had no idea that their lives and the lives of the Wizarding world would soon be forever altered. 


	2. The Unknown

  
By Tegan  


   
  


Echoes   


Chapter 2: The Unknown   


That night, Hermione's sleep was restless. She had a tight, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if something important were on the horizon, but could not be realized. The feeling was much like the one she had when a word played on the tip of her tongue, yet not allowing itself to be said.   


She rolled out of bed and began pacing her room trying to fit the empty pieces together. Nothing was amiss, yet everything felt wrong.   


She threw on her dressing gown and fluffy slippers and made her way down to the kitchens. She hoped that a cup of nettle tea would calm her nerves. She did not worry about dressing formally, since the castle was almost barren except for three or four teachers and a similar number of students.   


Hermione strolled through the corridors taking in the warm Christmas atmosphere. The armor softly hummed, "Silent Night," while the green holly and mistletoe hung lightly on the walls. She was already beginning to feel more at ease and silly for her unknown anxiety.   


As she passed the Entrance Hall, hundreds of holiday candles lit her way. The effect was lovely, the light gently reflected off the decorative glass bulbs and icicles twinkling the trees like colorful stars in the sky.   


Her spirits were much improved, as she tickled the pear and the painting swung open. She was surrounded by little green creatures wearing Hogwart's tea cozies. Enormous eyes looked at her eager to please. The house-elves currently had less to do because the majority of students and faculty had gone home. Any rational person would have been pleased to have their burden eased. The house-elves however, after only a few hours of serenity, were feeling the effects of lack of work and were delighted when Hermione came to them. They not only instantly honored her request for tea, but begged and coaxed her to allow them to do more.   


"Just tea thanks," Hermione replied graciously. "You house-elves deserve a day to relax."   


"Oh, no Miss," one silly little creature squeaked, "We is not liking days off."   


"Dobby is only one to take off today Miss. He is not a good house-elf, noooo." His big ears sank low, slapping his face as he shook his head fervently.   


Hermione bowed her head in surrender as she sat down on the couch in front of the roaring fire and sipped her hot tea. The house-elves were slaves, yes, but they definitely enjoyed their bondage.   


As she watched the steam rise gently from the cup, Hermione's thoughts drifted to her life in the timeless universe. She used to sit in this very spot and watch Snape cook. His long fingers easily worked the food, mixing and blending spices and ingredients over a large pot. Though he never liked her close when he worked, he didn't mind her company. She certainly was far away now. She wondered if he had cooked since their return.   


Hermione finished her tea and slowly made to return to Gryffindor Tower.   


She walked absently through the corridors. As she rounded her last corner, she saw Snape walking towards her. She noticed him an instant before he did her. He was deep in thoughtful contemplation watching the ground. He looked up in surprise, and their eyes met. He stared at her for a moment, his face becoming shuttered and blank. Before she could blink or open her mouth to speak, he turned sharply and without a word walked away. She could not fathom what his reaction to her being out past curfew would be, though this was far from anything she would have guessed.   


Hermione unconsciously held her breath as she watched him vanish down the hallway. She stared silently in confusion. He hadn't reprimanded her for anything or spat a remark at her at all.   


He had warned her that he would not venture to speak with her unless it was in the classroom, but his behavior was out of character even considering his promise.   


A slight glimmer of hope ran through Hermione's mind that his feelings for her might be stronger than he acknowledged.   


As Hermione laid in bed, Crookshanks' soft purrs vibrated her body, relaxing her. She wished, not for the first time, that she had the ability to read minds, or at least his mind.   


~~~***~~~   


Hermione woke up early on their first day of Christmas break to find Harry already out of bed looking through the common room window at the snow. He was staring, but didn't appear to be focused on anything. His features were haggard and worn. His pale skin looked sickly, and he had deep purple circles under his eyes. His hair was in a great state of disarray and he was rubbing his temple.   


"What's wrong Harry?" She touched his shoulder.   


He flinched back in surprise as if he hadn't realized she was there.   


"Nothing, I didn't sleep much last night."   


"Why don't you go back to bed?"   


Harry suppressed a frustrated chuckle and wearily made to get up.   


"Are you hungry? We should go to breakfast." He said as he trudged out of the room.   


Hermione was worried, she could tell that something was very wrong.   


The Great Hall was empty as they entered. It felt strange to see such a large area completely barren, yet the stillness was reminiscent of things past. A shiver of acknowledgement ran through Hermione.   


She sat at her usual seat at the Gryffindor table as her plate magically filled with soft biscuits, sliced potatoes, and fried sausages. She picked up her knife to slice open her steaming biscuit, when she caught sight of how pitiful Harry looked. He absently muddled to his seat, across from her, and slouched down holding his head. He looked terrible, and he was hiding something from her. She could tell by the short sentences he used to avoid her inquiries. Harry hated complaining. He felt that by being alive, while so many others had died, he should not complain.   


"Harry, please tell me what's wrong?" She leaned over and touched his arm with empathy trying to look into his big green eyes.   


"I have a headache."   


Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "If it's your scar, you need to go to Dumbledore."   


"If I went to Dumbledore each time my scar hurt, I would be in his office everyday," Harry replied bitterly. He stopped and continued wearily, "Besides it's not so much my scar as lack of sleep. I had a horrible nightmare."   


"That could be important. What was it about?"   


"It was too bizarre. I'm sure it will be of no help."   


"Like purple spotted aliens from Neptune bizarre?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.   


Harry smiled slightly, "Almost. There was this woman, at least I think she was a woman. Really, I could only tell by her screams. I've never heard anything so awful, so agonizing. It made me sick."   


Hermione swallowed hard.   


Harry paused looking over at her, "It was so real. I could hear her bones cracking as she tried to escape and could feel her reaching out while she bled from pushing."   


"What do you mean, pushing?" Hermione could not understand.   


"I think she was trapped, molded into something. Her eye bulged out red with a skull-like nose and opened agonized mouth."   


"Her eye?" Hermione asked reluctantly.   


"Yes, I only saw one, and it was not in the correct place on her face. Her skin was woody, bark-like. I didn't recognize her, couldn't have, it was all too distorted. Voldemort's high shrill laugh woke me up. He was laughing at her pain."   


Hermione sensed his tale was foreboding. She didn't know why. Many of his dreams had never come to pass. With a life as tumultuous as his, he was bound to have a nightmare or two that did not prophesize or relate directly to Voldemort's activities. This time however, Hermione sensed that his dream foretold a grim and horrid plan.   


Harry picked at his food, separating his fried potatoes into several smaller lumps, but not actually eating any of it.   


"Really Harry, I think this time it's important," she spoke soberly.   


Hermione finally convinced Harry to speak with Dumbledore, and within a few minutes they were standing at the Gargoyles wracking their brains for names of sweets.   


"Ju Ju Balls," Hermione guessed. The Gargoyles remained still.   


"Peppermint Humbugs." Again nothing.   


"Acid Pops, Sugar Slime, Malted Toads," the list was endless.   


"Jelly Slugs," Harry shouted, and the Gargoyles opened to reveal narrow winding steps. Hermione cringed at the thought of such a candy.   


Voices in heated conversation could be heard, as they slowly ascended the stairs.   


"Damn it Albus, we have to do something," a familiar silky voice echoed.   


"And what would you have us do Severus? We cannot act without purpose or reason. We can speculate and prepare, but no more."   


Hermione froze for a moment. He was the last person she wanted to see. Her muscles tightened. She had yet to be in such a confined space with him since their return. Her mind raced trying to find excuses to have Harry go it alone, but finding none, she followed him into Dumbledore's office, to find Snape standing by the window.   


"Aha, and two of our holiday guests have come to say hello," Dumbledore greeted the pair with a twinkle in his eye and offered them lemondrops.   


Harry and Snape looked at each other disdainfully while Hermione found the headmaster's paintings and clutter quite interesting, carefully avoiding Snape's corner of the room.   


Silence pervaded the room for a moment, until Hermione decided that she preferred as short a meeting as possible.   


She focused her attention on Dumbledore and began, "Harry had a dream and his scar hurts."   


Dumbledore raised his long white eyebrows with interest.   


"My scar always hurts, but it feels a little worse, and I did have a dream. It's probably nothing. I don't want to worry or complain over nothing," Harry added.   


"Then why are you wasting our time Potter?" Snape sneered.   


Dumbledore looked at Harry. His expression became serious.   


"I would like to talk with Harry alone, please." Dumbledore glanced at Snape as he spoke.   


Snape opened his mouth, as if to protest, but thinking the better of it, only nodded his head silently and turned to move. He glared suspiciously at Harry as he crossed the room. Hermione was standing next to the door, so even with his quick strides, she beat him to the exit, and Snape was forced to walk behind her on the way out.   


She should have let him go first. He would have been out of her presence, gone and she would not have had to deal with the feelings that his closeness brought up. Her bushy hair swept gently against his chest as she turned to enter the stairway. Hermione felt tingles of nervousness spread through her body. In such close quarters, she could feel his tall presence looming over her and smell his familiar scent. She found it difficult to swallow and impossible to speak.   


Unbeknownst to Hermione, similar thoughts were going through her Potion Master's mind as he fought with all his willpower to keep from lightly lifting his fingers to her hair and robes.   


~~~***~~~   


Hermione anxiously waited in the common room for Harry's return. She would sit one moment, only to find herself pacing in front of the fireplace running her hands through her hair the next. She crossed her arms, flopping back into the soft chair. Crookshanks had joined her and sat watching, his head following her actions, until finally the portrait swung open.   


"What happened? What did Dumbledore say?" Hermione bolted from her chair in anticipation.   


"Nothing much, what could he say?" Harry said simply as he walked to the stairs.   


He sighed, "I need to go to bed for a while," and slowly made for his dormitory.   


Harry slept the whole day, missing dinner. Reasoning that he hadn't eaten much breakfast, Hermione went to the kitchens for sandwiches to bring to him up in his room.   


"Hello," she knocked. "Female to enter...," Hermione warned before entering Harry's dorm room.   


As she slid through the doorway cautiously, she noticed Dean Thomas lying on his bed with an opened book. He looked up and smiled deviously.   


"Head Girl breaking the rules, I see." Dean could be obnoxious sometimes.   


"As Head Girl, I have the right to enter any Gryffindor room that I so deem necessary."   


Dean rolled his eyes at her haughty response and went back to his book.   


Harry leaned up on his elbows sleepily and smiled at her.   


"Morning," she said. "Not quite morning though is it?" She sat down on the bed next to him. "How are you feeling?"   


"Fine," Harry looked over at Dean nervously. Hermione could sense that he did not want to talk here. She knew Harry did not like to be singled out for his connection with Voldemort. Being recognized for his skills at Quidditch or his abilities as a wizard, that was fine, but fame due to his connection with Voldemort made him uneasy. Harry knew that he was not famous for anything that he could have controlled, but rather for his mother's love.   


"I brought chicken and ham sandwiches. Let's go somewhere more private to eat," she whispered to Harry.   


"All right, I feel like a walk anyway. I'll bring my Invisibility Cloak, just in case we don't get back by curfew." He stuffed the silvery flowing material into his book bag.   


And so they were off.   


They strolled through the halls in agreed silence until they reached Godric's Study on the ground floor of Gryffindor Tower.   


There they sat on the rug by the fire placing the sandwiches on the floor in between them.   


"I've always liked this room, it's so majestic." Harry said staring at a statue of a full sized lion in the corner.   


Harry looked down at his food. He spoke cautiously, "I don't want to worry you. I don't want to worry anyone, but I have an awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen."   


Hermione nodded, "I can feel it too. Like a tightening of my stomach when you spoke of your dream."   


"I had the sense that Dumbledore grasped some meaning from my dream. I thought I could see it in his eyes for a moment." Harry breathed in deeply picking at the crust on his bread.   


He continued, "Dumbledore said that all the signs have been pointing towards a big, climactic event. The Centaurs have warned him, but they can never give a straight answer. I'm not sure if even Dumbledore can make much sense out of their predictions."   


Hermione smiled slightly thinking of the Centaurs' strange and ambigious prophecies.   


"He said we must be prepared for the worst." Harry looked up at her, "Dumbledore has warned the Ministry, who have their Aurors on full alert, stationed at various towns and houses that might come under attack."   


Dumbledore's words brought Hermione little comfort.   


Harry threw his sandwich to the ground and began in a desperate voice, "Oh Mione, why do I feel like whatever move I make will be the wrong choice?"   


"I think everyone is in a similar dilemma. We are in the midst of the darkest times in wizarding history, add to that the fact that we are on the verge of entering the adult world, where we will not be as sheltered from evil and danger as we are now. I know I, for one, am confused as to which choice is the wise and right one. Lord knows I've made some stupid one's already."   


Harry looked up at her in disbelief, "You're far too smart to make a stupid decision."   


Hermione wished he were right.   


She cleared her mind and continued, "There was a Muggle poet who wrote, 'The world is too much with us; late and soon.' I think that it fits our situation right now. I'll lend you my copy when we get back."   


Harry smiled faintly at her and they sat in silence for a while, looking at the remnants of the half eaten sandwiches.   


"You know I love Ginny," Harry said not looking up from the floor.   


"Yes."   


"And if things were different...," he paused, "but with Voldemort, I could never endanger her by becoming involved."   


His sadness quickly molded into anger as he spat, "It's all Voldemort's fault. The Death Eaters are evil, but without Voldemort, they would never act. Look at the Dementors. They are monsters, but at least they stayed at Azkaban before Voldemort's rise. Everything bad that has happened is because of Voldemort."   


A loud, howling sound came from outside and the windows rattled. Hermione's eyes flashed toward the darkened sky expecting to find some terrible creature, but only to see snow whip by.   


"Wow, the wind is really picking up outside," she said absently.   


Suddenly, Harry cried out in pain collapsing onto the floor. He laid curled in a fetal position, clutching his forehead. Hermione leaned over him scared for her friend, only to hear the sound of glass crashing from somewhere in the castle.   


  


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

** I should warn you that there will be some blood and violence in the coming chapters. Not too terrible, I hope.  


**Also, Snape will be a primary character, but not until chapter 5. I wanted to build Harry into the story, so that I could play with his reactions to Snape and Hermione. 

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	3. The Attack

  
By Tegan  


   
Echoes   


  


  


Chapter 3: The Attack   


  


  


Another crash echoed through the stone castle, pulling Hermione's attention from Harry, who laid on the floor, grasping his forehead in pain. Her heart raced and her hair stood on end tingling her scalp and arms, as she stood up racing towards the door. She prayed that the noises were only Peeves causing trouble, but she realized Harry's pain and the destruction occurring within the castle were probably related.   


  


  


Hermione had only moved a few steps, when suddenly, a long thick tree limb smashed through the large bay windows shattering the glass. Before she had time to react, many naked branches began searching, reaching, grabbing. Shards of glass flew everywhere, gliding across the floor and through the air like a bright firework. Hermione fell backwards, sliding with the glass and the wind. Razor thin cuts on her hands and forearms began to seep blood, though Hermione did not notice. She stared in shock and confusion, as the limb receded and the howling, aching wind raged through her hair.   


  


  


Hermione blinked a few times, attempting to gather her wits. What had she just witnessed? The storm rushing in was more frigid than anything she had ever experienced. The howling in her ears filled her with a sense of misery and pain.   


  


  


As she watched, a thick gray trunk came forth lurching at the window. A red bulging eye with a large dilated pupil stared at her from within the twisted bark. She stared back at the grotesque thing in shock and fear. A skull-like face strained out of the wood. She realized the face was human, despite the absence of a nose and eye.   


  


  


Hermione did not move.   


  


  


She, in fact, could not move. She could only continue staring at the rope-like bark and hideous face, a human face, but so distorted and in such anguish Hermione could not fathom. Screams and cries pervaded her ears, as their bone-chilling pain crept through every part of her body. Hermione was frozen in horror and fear. She was abruptly grabbed by Harry, who had recovered enough to drag her stiff body into the corridor and away from immediate danger. He threw his Invisibility Cloak over their heads.   


  


  


Hermione tried to speak, to scream, but she only produced a slight whimper.   


  


  


She looked at Harry, and reality flooded back into her mind. She became aware of her surroundings and could move, and the pair strode swiftly through the corridors.   


  


  


The whole castle moaned, as if being crushed or torn apart by whatever was attacking. Crashes and screeches echoed through the corridors. Shadows of branches clawing moved against the dimly lit walls, while frigid gusts blew through the castle from broken windows everywhere. Their feet crunched upon the shards of broken glass as they made their way down the long corridor.   


  


  


As she followed Harry, Hermione still felt dazed, but her initial shock had worn off. She found herself observing all that was around her, trying, with little success, to concentrate and form a plan. She soon realized that they were heading towards the main doors, most likely towards the trees.   


  


  


"Shouldn't we go to the center of the building, away from the attack?" Hermione's voice quivered slightly as she spoke.   


  


  


"I doubt if we would be safe anywhere in the castle. Besides, I want to find out what is happening," Harry said determinedly.   


  


  


At that moment, Hermione did not understand, or agree with Harry's plan.   


  


  


A loud crash made them jump back in fright, as a small table exploded against the wall. Peering into the classroom, from where the table had originated, Hermione saw another large tree limb thrashing and convulsing, grabbing objects and slamming them about.   


  


  


A high pitched yelp arched over Hermione's head. She looked up in confusion, but saw nothing.   


  


  


"Move now!" Harry commanded and pushed Hermione along, the wind whipping through her hair and clothes.   


  


  


As they rounded the corner, giant gray twisting bark reached out filling the Entrance Hall having broken through the thick oak doors. Limb upon limb with spindly branches moved wildly from ceiling to floor. Splinters and rubble rolled and jumped with the storm. The floor was slick with a dark liquid. Frantic wind and snow blew the bitter cold into the room.   


  


  


Hermione's eyes looked at all this, yet she did not really see.   


  


  


The agonizing cries and moans became louder layering and echoing in her ears, heightening her senses. Within the moving limbs, Hermione realized that not one, but many human forms shrieked, cracking and spilling blood onto the floor. Gaping mouths piled next to mouths screeching and wailing and crying such fits of rage and pain it was unimaginable. Eyes bulged, bodies lunged out only to be molded back within the bark. There was constant motion: Twisting, grabbing, pulling.   


  


  


The branches dripped, not sap, but thick red blood. With each loud cracking and popping sound, more liquid fell, puddling onto the floor.   


  


  


It was all too much.   


  


  


Hermione could taste sour acid flow into her mouth. Harry yanked her back, dragging her hunched body as she spread sickness down the hall and onto her clothes.   


  


  


As they rounded the corner, she slid back against the wall shaking fiercely. The gore and undulating limbs, the screaming and the pain fell through to every part of her body.   


  


  


Harry grabbed her head with his hands brushing her tear and vomit drenched hair from her face. His fingers trembled slightly as he did so.   


  


  


"Hush Mione, you need to pull yourself together," Harry hoarsely whispered.   


  


  


She stared at Harry. Why was he not affected? His hands shook, yes, but he did not collapse into hysterics. What was wrong with her? She had always been brave in the face of danger, so why now did she act this way?   


  


  


She breathed in deeply, pushing all of her fear and horror to the back of her mind.   


  


  


"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione tried to keep her voice even and calm, but to her ears, she sounded weak and shaky. "I just can't believe this is happening."   


  


  


"Neither can I," Harry winced as he said this.   


  


  


Hermione watched him breathe deeply and stand up.   


  


  


"All of the normal exists have been blocked. Come on. We can get out through the secret passageway on the third floor," and he led her back down the corridor to a set of side stairs.   


  


  


She looked up the long flight of stairs, not knowing if she could climb. Her legs felt ready to buckle. They were numb and wobbled as she moved.   


  


  


Suddenly above them, a house-elf jumped from one wall to the other, appearing and disappearing instantly. It made a high squeaky yelp as it did so.   


  


  


They both looked up in amazement.   


  


  


"What in the world was that?" Hermione's eyes grew large with wonder and for an instant her fears subsided.   


  


  


"That must be how house-elves travel, through walls," Harry sounded as surprised by this discovery as Hermione was.   


  


  


It made sense. How else would they clean and enter locked, warded rooms?   


  


  


Slowly Hermione climbed the long flight of stairs. She still trembled, but she could feel her legs once more.   


  


  


The stairs were in chaos like the rest of the castle. Tapestries flapped in the wind. Pictures shook banging their frames against the walls.   


  


  


Hermione tried to detach herself from the violence and confusion that surrounded her. She needed to look at the situation as an objective observer.   


  


  


She watched as the characters in the portraits jumped from picture to picture, anchoring themselves against trees and doorways, congregating and talking loudly.   


  


  


"What has happened?" A lady in waiting asked.   


  


  


"Is Hogwarts under attack?" A small boy cried.   


  


  


Sir Cadogan, who was now in a picture with three women in crinolines, was gallantly protecting the fair maidens brandishing his heavy sword up high.   


  


  


Debris knocked into their legs and slammed into the walls and steps from the strong winds entering through broken windows. Small twisters swirled paper and mistletoe around in the air. Wind whipped down the many stairs, howling loudly. These sounds were mixed with unnatural cries of agony and furniture and glass breaking as wooden arms slammed them against floors and walls.   


  


  


Everytime something flew at them, Hermione was sure that they had been discovered.   


  


  


"Impedimenta!" Hermione cried as a sliver of glass the size of a long sword jetted towards them. The sliver stopped midair only inches from Harry's chest.   


  


  


Harry stood frozen staring at the glass shard with unblinking eyes. Hermione felt the warm air from a heavy breath under the cloak, and turned to look at a very shaken Harry.   


  


  


"Thank you," Harry gasped, his face pale with shock.   


  


  


"It was instinct. I didn't even think." It was true, she hardly remembered casting the spell. "I suppose I've given our position away though," Hermione said regretfully.   


  


  


Harry nodded silently dumbstruck by the event.   


  


  


Hermione was beginning to regain her wits, and she studied Sir Cadogan as he swished his blade into the air.   


  


  


She looked back at Harry, "It might be wise to uncover for a bit anyway."   


  


  


Hermione pulled the Invisibility Cloak onto their shoulders, and her bobbing head looked up at Sir Cadogan who chivalrously bowed.   


  


  


"Brave knight," she began, sounding more confident than she felt, "we need to know if our way to the statue of the humped backed witch is clear. Will you scout out the area for us?"   


  


  


"A mission! I boldly accept," and he leapt quickly from picture to picture, his armor clanging as he moved.   


  


  


"He may not be the wisest painting, but at least we will know if our escape is possible."   


  


  


Glass crashed, a tapestry flew off the wall dancing and twisting in the air, and another house-elf ran screaming near the top of the stairs.   


  


  


It felt longer, but within moments, Sir Cadogan had returned.   


  


  


"I see no villain or devilish monster blocking your path, good Lady. If I had, I would certainly have volunteered to slay the beast."   


  


  


"Thank you," Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief, and they again covered their heads, as they ventured upward.   


  


  


Wails of agony echoed up the stairs, freezing Hermione's insides as she remembered the cause of the cries.   


  


  


They had taken only a few steps when the castle suddenly began to moan and creak with such force, Hermione had to cover her ears. Harry, Hermione, and the animated pictures all turned in unison to look up.   


  


  


The staircase allowed Hermione to see to the very roof of the castle, which now looked arched and bent as if being crushed. The walls tilted inward growing closer together the further up they climbed.   


  


  


A horrifying image of a collapsed ceiling trapping, suffocating her under tons of heavy stone and debris entered her mind. She swallowed hard trying to empty her mind of these thoughts.   


  


  


"We'd better hurry." Harry gasped, and they ran up the next flight of stairs to the third floor.   


  


  


A house-elf ran over their feet disappearing into the wall.   


  


  


At the far corner, Hermione could see the white statue of the humped backed witch.   


  


  


Another tiny squeaking creature came flying down from the ceiling and disappeared into the floor below. Hermione suddenly felt for the poor house-elves. They must be terrified.   


  


  


Drawing Hermione from her thoughts, Harry moved her quickly to the statue's side. Papers and garbage laid at the witch's feet, holly clung to her head.   


  


  


"Dissendium," Harry said tapping his wand on the statue, and it opened slightly allowing enough room to squeeze through.   


  


  


The black tunnel smelled thick and moldy. Hermione thought something was different from her previous visit. She looked out into darkness searching for an answer.   


  


  


"Lumos," and Harry's wand lit the air beyond their initial entrance. What Hermione saw was unreal.   


  


  


Through a thick dusty haze, roots small and large twisted, searching, reaching, clawing out into the emptiness of the tunnel.   


  


  


Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment to keep from losing her wits again.   


  


  


The statue slid back heavily against the wall, dulling the horrific shrieks and moans of the castle. Now softer noises could be heard, and the scratching and rubbing of wooden fingers against tunnel walls became just as frightening.   


  


  


Hermione breathed in deeply, only to cough as her lungs filled with the fine particles that filled the air. She could hear clumps splattering on the soft floor, dust poofing into the air as they landed.   


  


  


"Come on. Don't let the roots touch you." Harry motioned for her to follow.   


  


  


The tunnel was normally only wide and tall enough for two people to barely stand. Now with the roots hanging low, fighting to grab hold, they were forced to crouch down low, single file; Hermione behind Harry.   


  


  


As she hunched low in an attempt to reach Hogsmeade, the roots from the tunnels clawed and grabbed narrowly missing Hermione's hair and back. Chunks of dirt, torn loose from the moving roots, rained down, dust infiltrating her mouth and nose and eyes making seeing and breathing difficult.   


  


  


Hermione had to move slowly through the thick haze of falling earth. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they watered up and blurred so that she could not see. She wiped a clean line across her face with the inside of her shirt and knelt in the soft ground coughing.   


  


  


"I can't breathe Harry," she gasped taking more soot into her lungs.   


  


  


"Here put this over your face," and Harry handed her the Invisibility Cloak.   


  


  


Harry coughed as he said this placing the large arm of his knit sweater over his mouth.   


  


  


Hermione had always like that sweater; she realized it was probably ruined now. She pondered the absurdity of such a thought.   


  


  


Harry began moving again and they continued on. As he shuffled awkwardly through the layer of soot, his feet brought up more dust into Hermione's eyes.   


  


  


The ground reminded her of a beach, though much more unevenly grained than sand. Underneath the thick layer of dust and chunks was the hard floor. It was bumpy and irregular, and Hermione stumbled from its unevenness and her lack of vision.   


  


  


Her warm breath moistened the cloak as she used it to filter the air. The cloak also helped filter the damp, dying smell of the tunnel. The soot tickled her nose as it fell lightly, while the chunks landed roughly bringing up more dust.   


  


  


Hermione imagined she could feel the roots softly stroking her hair, teasing her in a gruesome parody of a lover's caress. The dirt fell so unevenly, some finely grained soot, others fast hard chunks, that she convinced herself that it caused the sensation. If she shook her head a pile would surely form around her.   


  


  


"Let's hope there is not a cave in," Hermione's muffled voice said nervously through the cloak.   


  


  


The tunnel curved slightly and they had to move very slowly to avoid touching the sides. The light from Harry's wand reflected off the tiny particles back into their eyes, making it difficult to tell where the dust ended and the tunnel began. The scratching roots grated into Hermione consciousness, tightening her stomach.   


  


  


As the tunnel steeped up hill, Hermione had to use her bloodied, glass-filled hands to climb. She tripped on the slick soot, landing on her knee. She pushed herself back up and limped as every step gave her sharp pains.   


  


  


Not only did her knee and hands hurt, but the lack of breathable air and odd angle at which they walked made Hermione's muscles ache and her body feel out of breath and worn out.   


  


  


Luckily, soon after the slope, the tunnel ceased its attack from the lack of tree roots. The air became clearer, so the pair sat down and rested for a moment. Hermione had calmed down enough from the shock and horror of what she had previously witnessed to now feel empathy for the lost souls within the trees. She felt a strong need to save them.   


  


  


"Harry, we have to help those poor people," Hermione pleaded.   


  


  


"I know, but I don't think going back into the castle is our best option." He paused and added, "At least the castle was almost empty."   


  


  


Hermione was outraged, "The castle was not empty by any means Harry. What about Dean and Trevor and all the poor house-elves and Crookshanks and Hedwig? What will happen to them?"   


  


  


As she said this, her throat tightened, and she became silent. Severus was surely inside the castle. He could have been one of those lost souls, who cried out to her in agony. Her eyes began to tear up, and she closed them hanging her head in misery.   


  


  


A driving need to go back, to help him, enveloped her soul.   


  


  


She pulled her sore knees up to her chest and brought a dirty wounded hand to her mouth staring absently into space.   


  


  


"We have to help him," Hermione croaked.   


  


  


Harry listened to her plea, misunderstanding its meaning.   


  


  


"Dean is smart, Hermione," Harry comforted. "He can take care of himself."   


  


  


Hermione looked up sharply, realizing what she had said.   


  


  


"Maybe we can find help in Hogsmeade. Let's go," and Harry rose to continue through the tunnel.   


  


  


The rest of their short journey through the earth was uneventful, and they quickly found the end. Harry reached at the ceiling above him. A thick wooden trap door opened to the cellar of Honeydukes.   


  


  


Hermione was covered filthy in a layer of soot, when she finally climbed into the cellar. She shivered slightly and a light dusting fell from her hair and clothes.   


  


  


The moldy, rotting smell was replaced by a smoky scent, and it was definitely cooler. As Hermione climbed the stairs to the main store, she could feel a slight breeze wisp under the door.   


  


  


When they entered the candy store, the Invisibility Cloak around them, they found the place dark and in shambles. Jars of sweets laid strewn across the floor, intermingling with glass and snow from the broken windows. Wild gusts of snow and wind shot through the store, bringing with them a strong smell of smoke. The air was frigid, so that her nose froze when she breathed in. Hermione had never seen a storm so fierce or cold, and believed it was the work of Dark Magic.   


  


  


"I doubt we will find help here," Hermione whispered nervously to Harry under their camouflage.   


  


  


"You can Apparate to the Ministry," Harry said, quickly moving them to a dark corner and pulling the Invisibility Cloak from her.   


  


  


Hermione had passed her test only a few weeks ago. She had been granted a special license, due to her performance as a student and her home situation.   


  


  


She tried in vain to Disapparate, but she did not even splinch.   


  


  


"The snow storm," Hermione formulated as she watched its unnatural wickedness. "It must hold a Binding Curse. I won't be able to Apparate anywhere."   


  


  


Fear for Snape and the others, as well as a helplessness, gripped at her heart, when she realized that she could not find a solution to their dilemma.   


  


  


"Harry, we have to find help!" She said this with such forcefulness, it became a fact, rather than a simple statement.   


  


  


"I'll try sending a message to the Burrow." He uncloaked himself for a moment. "I doubt if it will get very far in this weather," and Harry cast a Messenger Spell sending a small silvery dart zipping out the opened window.   


  


  


"We should see if we can find help in town," Harry said as he placed the Invisibility Cloak back over their heads, and they stepped into the deep snow.   


  


  


Hermione doubted they would find any help in Hogsmeade, but she hoped that she could walk beyond the storm's boundaries and Apparate.   


  


  


Hermione cast an Opernix Spell on their feet to hide their tracks.   


  


  


The wind was blowing the snow in swirls and rushes so that their visibility was very low. Through the hazy darkness, Hermione saw an eerie glow of blue, light up the town to her left. They made their way towards the glow and out of town.   


  


  


A few steps into the wind, and the whirling darkness engulfed them so that they could not move or breathe. Hermione stuck her face into Harry's shoulder to catch her breath.   


  


  


She placed a Warming Spell on her body, but felt no noticeable difference. She realized the magical nature of the storm must impede on other spells besides Apparition.   


  


  


Each building they passed showed the same signs of destruction that Honeydukes had. She heard explosions and looked towards Zonko's shop to see sparks and fireworks launch out of its windows and roof. Glass and garbage intermixed with the snow, so that she had to watch her path carefully. It looked much as she would have pictured a Nuclear Holocaust. Perhaps this was the end of her world.   


  


  


As they neared the blue light, Hermione was horrified to find that most of the town was ablaze. Blue flames raged with the fierce snow, growing larger, spreading with each gust of wind. The flames were rising with the storm coming nearer.   


  


  


Hermione stilled and watched the approaching flames, as all her hopes for finding help drained from her body leaving her empty. How was she to find help now? She felt no warmth from the flames.   


  


  


Harry was the first to turn around, back towards Honeydukes.   


  


  


Hermione followed, as the wind and fire raged angrily, pushing them in the wrong direction.   


  


  


As they passed the Three Broomsticks, which was only beginning to burn with the unnatural fire, Hermione could see dozens of blurry cloaked figures illuminated by the flames, their black robes flapping chaotically. Screams carried in the wind, and flashes of yellow, red, and green exploded into the stormy sky.   


  


  


Dazed people sporadically crossed their path. One man ran past them only to be shot with a strong green flash falling into the snow. He flopped to the ground like a ragdoll, lifeless. A flash of red barely missed them as it struck an unlucky victim, who wailed in pain as his arm lit up in a bright blue flame.   


  


  


The iciness of the air was nothing to the internal chill Hermione now felt. Her heart and gut ached with a bitter cold, and she began having doubts. She knew she would die, and with her, all hope of saving the poor lost souls back at the castle. Next to her, she could feel Harry's body tremble.  


"Harry..."  


"I'm fine," he cut her off.  


She doubted if that were true.  


  


  


As the cloaked figures came closer, Hermione recognized them for what they were. She prayed that the snow and wind would not betray them to the Death Eaters. She knew that an Invisibility Cloak was useless against the Dementors.   


  


  


The main road to Hogwarts was filled with the enemy walking and moving towards the castle. The Death Eaters and Dementors were in such numbers that they had no choice but to veer off into the snow and away from the main road as they neared the Shrieking Shack. This abandoned home was the only thing around that appeared quite normal. They trudged through the deep snow, wind biting at their faces and hands. She had nearly tripped twice since leaving, and now her feet were becoming numb with the cold.   


  


  


Hermione stumbled onto a soft lump, almost falling over in the process. She looked down to see a young woman, long blonde hair shadowed her face. Hermione bent down and stuck her hand out of the cloak to determine if she was dead or alive. Her large soft blue eyes stared unfocused. She was alive, but only barely, her skin had gone cold and pale.   


  


  


Harry grabbed Hermione dragging her away quickly.   


  


  


"We can't just leave her," Hermione pleaded.   


  


  


"She is lost Hermione. You know that," Harry's arms were shaking violently as he pulled her back.  


  


  


Hermione did know. She understood why her eyes had looked so blank. The young woman was but an empty shell, no thoughts, no fears, no emotions left at all. Hermione watched helplessly wanting to instill the soul back into the girl's body, but lacking the ability to do so. Hermione knew it was the result of the Dementor's kiss.   


  


  


"There is nothing we can do for her, she is in a state of living death," Harry begged her to continue.   


  


  


Hermione glanced quickly over her shoulder to see cloaked figures coming towards them. Hermione did the only thing she could. She followed Harry and left the girl alone to die in the bitter cold.   


  


  


She knew that her decision and the girl's image would haunt her more than all of the screaming victims already scarred into her mind.   


  


  


Everything seemed to be driving them into the forest and back towards the castle. The wind, the fire, the Dementors and Death Eaters all urged them on. They could not go back, they could not follow the road, their only option was to move forward into the Forbidden Forest.   


  


  


Hermione's mind raced.   


  


  


This could not be happening. Such violence and horrific pain and suffering were only to be read in books and newspapers, not to be lived. She moved, but did not know she was walking, dazed by the trauma.   


  


  


"Entering the forest is a terrible idea," Hermione stated hoarsely.   


  


  


"I know, but I don't think we have much choice," Harry said solemnly.   


  


  


And so, the pair trudged through the snow to face the unknown hell of the Forbidden Forest.   


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

**Thank you for everyone who read and reviewed. Thanks especially to besnaped for all of your wonderful reviews.  


**Special thanks to rhitmcshanm and Jaded Green who helped me a lot with this chapter.  


** The line, "in a gruesome parody of a lover's caress" was rhitmcshanm's idea. It was beautiful!  


**If you read this on WIKTT, I made a few slight changes so that it flowed better with Chapter 4. 

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	4. The Forest for the Trees

  
By Tegan  


   
  


Echoes   


Chapter 4: The Forest for the Trees   


Hermione looked at the wall of trees that, only a short distance away, appeared as hazy shadows flailing and thrashing in the dark.   


Nervously she glanced over her shoulder at the dark figures, who were driving them into the Forbidden Forest. She could still vaguely feel the desperation and hopelessness that had affected her in the village. Now, though, she was far enough away from the foul creatures to control her feelings and not allow herself to be consumed by them. She knew her chances for survival were slim, even if she made it back to the castle, but she was resolved to try.   


She and Harry stopped in front of a huge snow bank.   


The tree line at the edge of the forest acted as a barrier for the wind, allowing snow to drift to great heights. Hermione scrutinized the drift that was nearly as tall as she. A strong wind twirled the top layer of snow around covering the cloak, so that it had to be shaken off to see through.   


"Let's levitate over," Harry directed backing up to perform the spell.   


That however proved to be a mistake. The moment their feet left the ground, the wild wind jettisoned them head first into the drift. Hermione was thrown so deeply in, that a heavy blanket of snow smothered her face suffocating her. She struggled to remove herself from the frigid pile, flopping onto the ground gasping for breath. The cloak slid off as she did so.   


Suddenly, a large webbed branch rolled and jumped like tumbleweed over the top of the drift towards the town.   


A vision of wooden claws dragging her into hell entered her mind, and Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment. She stood up, wiping her face with her sleeve, but not bothering to brush the snow from her hair and clothes.   


She shook violently from the cold that surrounded her, and looked over to see Harry stumbling to stand. As he awkwardly threw the cloak back over their heads, she noticed that Harry was not as steady as he had been.   


Hermione reluctantly suggested, "Maybe climbing would be best."   


Harry only nodded his agreement.   


She had to use her cold, sore hands to help her climb. One hand reached out at the snow. Her other fist, tightly wrapped around her wand, sunk into the frozen drift. She did not know if her hand would ever come loose from this grip. Her legs pushed deep into the snow, nearly leaving her thin loafers behind as she lifted her feet.   


Hermione was far from properly dressed for these conditions. Snow was now in her shoes drenching her feet and toes with cold wetness. Her hands were bare and red and raw, yet at that moment, she did not feel the cold. She felt nothing but numb inside and out.   


The wind whipped her hair around violently, hitting her sharply on her numbed face and eyes, so that she teared up. She realized that even without the wind, she should be crying. Her mind returned to the poor, lost girl on the edge of Hogsmeade, and she felt as empty as that young woman had been.   


She stumbled to right herself, when she reached the peak of the hill. Hermione turned to look back at the town. The light from the blazes and explosions faded into the dark snowy haze of the storm. She could no longer see the robed enemy, but she sensed they were not far away. She prayed that she had not been noticed. Though she could not see, she knew the girl who laid frozen in the snow was probably dead by now.   


"I think that is the path," Harry shouted pointing down to a small opening in the trees.   


Hermione doubted if that were true. The narrow separation within the trees looked a poor excuse for a path.   


She looked up at the menacing trees that stood like guard arching over the pathway. Darkness engulfed the forest beyond the entrance.   


"This is insane!" She shouted over the howling wind.   


Hermione knew that it truly was insane. Even in broad daylight, the forest, with its cursed trees, would be incredibly hazardous, but now they were forced through this treacherous maze in total darkness. The odds against them were astronomical.   


Once they had made it over the snow bank, the wind lessened somewhat, and Hermione tried in vain to place Warming Spells on their hands and feet. She thought that a vague effect occurred, but the Dark Magic used to conjure this storm was too strong for her simple Warming Spell.   


Hermione looked at Harry. The snow and wind were affecting him as well. She watched him shake and wobble as they walked next to the embankment to the path. They had to move very slowly in almost no light to avoid falling and running into objects hidden in the dark haze of the stormy night.   


She looked up and saw a ceiling of wicked fingers moving, thrashing, clawing in the wind.   


A branch came flying out of the pitch blackness, narrowly missing them.   


Hermione jumped back in fright. She had not seen the branch until it was far too late.   


She paused, breathing in the frigid air. If they were to survive, Hermione could not allow herself to become scared and irrational. Her mind was sharp, and, she believed, for every problem a solution must exist. She needed to look at their situation as a solvable puzzle, focusing on one piece at a time. She decided their greatest obstacle was the darkness. They had to be able to move quickly in case the Dementors continued after them. They also need to avoid the branches and roots of the vicious trees. Somehow they must improve their sight, without allowing others to see them.   


"Wait Harry," She held onto his sweater, so that he could not move. "We'll never make it through this darkness unless we can see."   


Hermione continued as calmly as possible, though the urgency of the situation prodded her to hurry, "I don't know how much this will help, but I can transfigure our eyes into something that can see at night."   


"Hedwig flies at night all the time.".   


"An owl," Her analytical mind took over. "That would work, and they can see in the infrared spectrum. It might help us determine if we are being followed by any creature."   


Her speech brought up visions of the Dementors. She wondered how well her eyes would notice something so dark and cold as those horrific creatures. She quickly pushed her thought aside and concentrated all her energy on her task.   


She directed her wand at Harry's eyes and commanded, "Otus Ocular."   


Harry's eyes became large and round. He looked a bit ridiculous. Hermione would have chuckled had the situation been different.   


She pointed her wand at her own and did likewise. She definitely could see better, not well, but the forest now had definition and shape. She could not sense color, but the shades of black and gray became varied and distinct. Though the snow and wind limited the distance at which she could see, her field of vision substantially increased. She could now sense movement from almost every direction.   


She glanced over at Harry and noticed that he was in worse shape than she had previously thought. He looked weak and sickly and his whole body trembled. She knew that the Dementors and the storm had affected him more than he would admit.   


"Ready?" Harry asked dryly.   


"Yes, I think so," she replied uncertainly. She wished she could prepare more, study the situation indepth from a library somewhere safe.   


As they passed under the first of the huge forest trees hanging menacingly above, Hermione felt sure they would be instantly absorbed. They were not however, and she breathed in a deep sigh of relief.   


Her eyes jetted around nervously at the constantly shifting shadows.   


Branches and twigs flew with the wind, flailing themselves into other trees and at the pair's feet.   


Even with their night vision, the path was difficult to follow. Fortunately, the drifts were not nearly as bad as before, but snow covered everything so evenly, that they could not see the forest floor. Large roots and stumps lay on either side of the path, hidden by the snow. This forced them to move more slowly than she thought wise.   


Hermione's new vision also played tricks with her mind.   


Shadows and dark images darted and crept all around her. She imagined faces and bodies turning within the oaks and sycamores. These trees however did not scream with the anguish of before. The wind howled and blew strongly in her ears, but no cries of pain could be heard.   


A loud crack made Hermione look up dreading that she would find someone there.   


Gigantic limbs loomed terrible above them. The stormy wind thrashed the branches about wildly, twitching and clutching, but she saw no human figure.   


In fact, Hermione noticed that no living creature was in sight. Her eyes should have detected some life by now. Even a small mouse, hiding within the snow should have been easily noticed by her large owl-like eyes. The last time she had been in the Forbidden Forest, glowing eyes and scurrying feet had been present. She hoped that this lack of life was due to the raging storm, rather than to the Dark Curse on the trees.   


They walked deep into the forest. The wind continued to thrash and throw debris about. A small branch, freed from its tree by the wind, slammed into Hermione's leg. She jumped back nervously scanning the movement around her carefully. Although everything was in motion, she was fairly confident that they were alone. She could no longer feel the Dementors' presence. This gave her some hope that they might reach the castle alive.   


And now, she hoped to reach the castle as soon as possible, rationalizing that Harry's cloak would give them an advantage against the Death Eaters, if not the Dementors. This was one advantage that Snape and the others did not have.   


Finding the castle was more difficult than she had expected. It was nearly impossible to follow the path. The dirt way was normally thin and winding, but now there were large empty gaps in the forest, natural clearings as well as unnatural. There were many deep holes that had been created as massive roots pulled out of the ground.   


They had just rounded a bend, when Harry pulled Hermione back forcefully. A low painful moan cried, and she looked to see the shadow of someone struggling.   


She recognized the figure. Ronan the Centaur was embedded partially into a huge oak moaning in agony.   


Hermione's body began to shake from more than the cold as she watched helplessly.   


A loud crack and Ronan became indistinguishable from the tree, which took on a life of its own and began moving, as its roots pulled up. The oak's long roots moved like spider's legs crawling quickly away.   


"Harry, it's too much. Why haven't we been attacked yet?"   


"I don't know," His voice trembling harshly. "Maybe because they can't see us. Maybe because we haven't touched the trees. I just don't know how Voldemort's spell works."   


"At least we know the way back to Hogwarts is that way," he said hoarsely, while pointing at the great oak, as it disappeared into the snowy darkness.   


They continued on in silence, as melancholy spread through Hermione. She had hoped the Curse had been broken, that Dumbledore with all his seemingly omniscience, had fixed everything. She had tried to convince herself that Snape would be all right with Dumbledore safe-guarding him. When she found that this was not true, she became disheartened.   


Hermione looked over at Harry, his pale thin body seemed to struggle with every step. His large eyes were not bright, but dull and unaware. She wondered if her own condition was so severe.   


"Hermione, stop a moment," Harry grasped her wrist with his hand as he bent forward appearing on the verge of collapse. "I need to catch my breath."   


Hermione knew that Harry needed much more than that.   


"We need to find some sort of safe haven from the storm," Hermione said looking around the forest. "That hole should work." She pointed to one of the unnatural gaps left by a rogue tree.   


They slid carefully into the deep hole.   


When she had reached the bottom, Hermione stood on tip-toes looking over the rim at the moving black forest.   


Huge earth chunks flopped around the hole's edges, keeping most of the wind at bay. Hermione slid down against the dirt wall, bringing her knees to her chest, as she blew warm air into her frozen hands.   


She watched Harry closely. He was shaking fiercely.   


"Try a Warming Spell again." Harry said in desperation as he laid his head back against the wall.   


"Thermius," Hermione pointed her wand at Harry's hands.   


"I think it's working." He smiled slightly opening and closing his hands.   


"It must work better when we're not directly in the wind," she said as she placed spells on the rest of his body.   


He returned the favor on her hands, feet and face.   


Hermione felt slightly warmer, but it was a cold comfort. Her face burned, her hands itched, and her legs ached.   


Harry spat, "It's those damn Dementors. They affect me so much. I was trying to ignore it, but combined with the storm, I've been getting slowly weaker. I can feel them even now freezing my insides. I wish I weren't so weak." He placed his head in his hands.   


"Harry, you are not weak. Look at how you reacted in the castle. I was a wreck, and would have died if it weren't for you."   


"It's only because you care so much about people that you reacted like that. I think sometimes all the violence I've been exposed to has damaged me somehow, made me feel less than I should." His words trailed off, and with that they sat in silent contemplation for a while.   


Hermione felt tired and worn out. As she rested, her mind wandered to things past. Everything around her was so dark and deep and dangerous. Snape's eyes were much like that, only when she looked into them, she felt comforted, rather than frightened. The last night they had spent together, he had looked at her with such feeling and passion, his eyes drove into her heart. His warm hands had gently touched her sending tingles through her body.   


She thought of his eyes and mouth and nose and was filled with warmth. She relaxed her body and mind a bit too much allowing her subconscious thoughts to invade, and in an instant, a distorted image of the tree that had grasped Ronan flickered in her mind. Only it was not Ronan, it was Snape writhing and screaming with in the dark wood. Hermione stomach tensed, and she swallowed hard trying to focus on reality rather than the unknown.   


The image disturbed her so much she felt an instant need to continue on. If she was ever to face herself in the mirror, she needed to at least attempt to help the others back at Hogwarts.   


"We should move on." She said holding her hand out to help Harry.   


  


They continued to trudge forward for what seemed like hours. Hermione's mind began to feel heavy and dazed. She was no longer sure if they were even following a path, let alone going in the correct direction. Everything looked thick and dangerous.   


Hermione stepped heavily, sheer will forcing her legs to move forward. She hardly paid attention, her mind numbed from the cold. Suddenly, one of her steps found itself crashing through a thin layer of ice into a cold wet stream. The rest of her body followed as she fell in, up to her waist.   


"Harry, help me! Pull me out!" Hermione screamed in terror.   


The water was ice cold, and she knew if she did not get out soon, she would die.   


"Corpus Leviosa," and Hermione rose out of the icy water landing near Harry's feet.   


She shook violently feeling sick and dazed. Harry placed a Drying Spell on her, but she was beyond cold.   


"Harry, I'm so tired," She said weakly.   


Even to her own ears, her words sounded forced and dull. Try as she might, she could not properly work her lips and tongue.   


"It's all right Hermione. I've been in this forest before, and I think I recognize this spot." Harry comforted, "This stream is near the castle. Hogwarts is just beyond that slope."   


Harry tried another Warming Spell on her, but with little success.   


As they made their way uphill, Hermione kept tripping and falling into the snow. Her whole body landed awkwardly each time, her hands no longer having the reflexes to break her fall. Her legs would no longer move as she wished, and she could not tell where the ground ended and her feet began. Her legs fought her every step, yet she continued telling herself that the castle was near. She knew that if she stopped, she would die.   


Thoughts and worries no longer plagued her mind, she was far too dazed and tired to think. She could no longer be scared, she could no longer feel anything. She was so dulled by the cold that she had even stopped trembling, her body no longer reacting to anything.   


As they moved, the wind howled loudly. A crack sounded, and a huge tree came crashing down across their path.   


The tree had almost hit her, but she was so weak and tired, she only stared dazedly at the fallen object.   


Hermione could tell Harry was speaking, though she could not understand his words.   


He shook her slightly and she focused on him as best she could.   


"We need to levitate the tree. It's too big to move on my own. Hermione I need your help. You need to concentrate."   


Hermione pointed her wand out in front of her. Her fist trembled wildly, uncontrollably. She focused all of her will at the tree, but it was so difficult. Slowly and with much wavering, the fallen tree lifted and moved aside.   


The level of effort it took to do the spell made her nervous. She had always relied on her intelligence and quick wit to survive. Slowly she was losing her one advantage. She knew she would not survive much longer.   


As they reached the top of the slope, Hermione saw a glow in the foggy haze of snow. Her heart leapt, and they headed toward it. This ray of hope instilled Hermione with some strength, clearing her mind and senses slightly. As they neared the light, Hermione thought she could smell smoke.   


The smell of smoke and the glow became stronger until eventually, they did reach the castle.   


Hermione froze as she looked up at the destruction.   


Trees twisted upward like tornadoes fading into the swirling snow. Some of the timbers were on fire, giving the castle an eerie glow. The gray bark wound up the sides of the castle bending, and leaning, and crushing. The trees molded into many horrible faces, arms, mouths, eyes that screamed and cracked. The bodies were lit up in a haze of dull flashing colors.   


Hermione quickly removed the spells from their eyes, and she was immediately relieved to have her human sight once more. The trees faded back into the hazy darkness, no longer could she clearly watch as they reached and lunged at her from all directions.   


Lights flashed and blazed red, green and yellow.   


Suddenly a great flash of white, brighter than she had ever seen before, caught her attention. She looked to find Dumbledore casting a spell. Five of the large trees disappeared.   


The huge oak, that Ronan had been molded into, came round with its sharp branches impaling Dumbledore through the shoulder. As he jolted in pain, he cried another incantation, and the tree disappeared. Dumbledore toppled onto his knees holding himself up in the snow by one arm, as the other dangled lifelessly by his side.   


Professor McGonagall ran to him, lifting him up against her. They retreated into the swirling snow, so that Hermione could not see where they had gone or if they were still alive.   


Hagrid rushed past her, a great tree over his head, throwing it like a javelin into the distance.   


Hermione realized that the trees, though dangerous, could no longer absorb her by touch.   


She looked around desperately searching for Snape. She needed to know that he was alive.   


A deep cold suddenly crept to her very core, and she felt ill thinking of the poor victims of the trees. The men, women, children all screamed agonizingly in her ears so that she could not think. She saw Severus' face screaming, dying, being pulled and ripped and crushed. He cried for her help, but it was hopeless. He was lost, and she had failed.   


Dozens of Dementors smoothly glided towards Hermione, surrounding her, closing in from all directions.   


Harry collapsed at her feet. Panic and terror engulfed Hermione, as Snape's cries echoed in her mind. Throwing off the Invisibility Cloak to help Harry, she was grabbed by slimy rotting hands. The cold burned into her skin. She squirmed and twisted fighting to get loose. She could feel her legs and body weakening, giving into the terrible cries of pain. 


	5. Leading or Following

  
By Tegan  


   
  


Echoes   


Chapter 5: Leading or Following   


Hermione was sinking, spiraling deep into the darkness of her own mind. Visions of tortured faces, eyes bulging, mouths wailing flickered in her head like a silent movie. The screams she heard seemed distant and detached from the images she saw. Soon though, the far off screams roared towards her, so that she could hear them emanating from within. The cries layered upon moans upon screams, allowing her to hear nothing beyond the pain. She became consumed by these thoughts, and her screams joined the cacophony of anguish, as her knees began to buckle.   


A bright light shot forward, and the terrible images that flashed in her mind dimmed and blurred, as the beam burst into hundreds of tiny exploding sparkles. All that surrounded Hermione glittered and twinkled, and the anguish that she felt began to seep away.   


Her world slowly became clearer, and Hermione watched, as the bright falling stars landed and clung to the Dementors' robes and hands, crawling with many spindally legs.   


Strange unnatural gurgles and hisses emerged from the foul creatures, and they began to spasm, arms whipping, swatting, and scrambling away from the falling sparkles.   


Hermione stared in awe, confused and not fully capable of distinguishing reality from the imagined. Her mind had been dulled from the cold and creatures, and everything was happening far too fast for her to process. Strong arms pulled her up, and a distant voice called her name. She recognized that silky voice and looked up to see a face she knew could not be real. He was lost, dead. Hermione gasped as tears filled her eyes.   


Hermione tried to move, but her feet would not lift off the ground. She shuffled weakly, stumbling as she did so.   


An awkward step turned into a swish as her body was swiftly, but steadily lifted. As she was carried in strong, safe arms, shehe looked dazedly around her, head flopping like a newborn baby's. Her unfocused eyes watched a blurry Harry floating stiffly in front.   


Thick, soft cloth wrapped warmly around her as she was pressed tightly against a solid chest. The frigid wind blew the cloak wildly about, but around her was only warmth. The material scratched against her numbed face with each step.   


"Creare Callis," was cast, but Hermione did not hear the words. A soft vibration ran through her body and she sensed a voice. She could feel his heart beating and chest rising and falling, and it gave her comfort.   


She snuggled her nose into his chest, and his grip around her tightened. With that safe and warm embrace, Hermione drifted off into unconsciousness.   


And as Hermione lay cradled in Snape's arms, she was unaware of all that was going on around her.   


She did not see Snape turn swiftly off the path holding, protecting her in his arms. A stiff, unconscious Harry led the way floating through the dense, dark forest. Trees, branches, bushes, and stumps all made way as they neared. Branches lifted, stumps slid, bushes parted magically clearing a path, only to shift back into place, undisturbed moments later.   


  


The strange parade walked on, finally making their way into a small hidden clearing rimmed with rocky slopes. They entered a crack in one of the slopes. A crack that would be known only to one who had explored the forest for many years collecting potion ingredients. Snape guided Harry roughly through the entrance. Harry's head and body bobbed and bumped against the cave walls and ceiling. As Snape lowered him to the floor, Harry's body bounced slightly from the impact. Snape then carefully laid Hermione on the dirt floor, tender fingers caressing her face and hair. Gently he draped his heavy cloak over her limp body. As soon as they were through, the crack molded into a smooth rocky formation, hiding the cave's existence.   


Yet, to all this, Hermione was oblivious.   


Sometime later, Hermione awoke in a daze, the world shadowed and hazy. She blinked several times focusing on the rounded, jagged stone ceiling above her. She felt weak and sickly, as if having suffered a strong bout with the flu. Her hands and face stung, and her body ached. Her nerves kept jumping, twitching just below the surface of her skin. Her shoes were off and her socks were warm and dry. Dirt and rocks surrounded her; and through her confusion, she slowly sat up leaning on the rocky wall for support. A thick wool cloak slid off her chest gathering at her waist.   


She was in a small cave of some sort. The walls were curved, roughly dome-shaped though slanted to form a sharp angle at the far corner. Hermione could not tell where the entrance was, all sides appeared closed and solid. The room was dimly lit, shadows softly playing on the walls from the yellow glow of a wand floating midair near the ceiling.   


The cave was moist and cool. And as her breath misted in the chilly air, she was reminded of the dungeons at Hogwarts.   


A tall, thin figure was bent over something across from her. She coughed softly and he turned, moving quickly to kneel next to her. Soft, long fingers lightly swept her hair from her eyes, and she looked to see a vision, she had thought lost. He was pale and bruised and cut, claw-like scratches crossed one cheek. His normally silky straight hair was in such disarray, it knotted into thick clumps, which piled unevenly on his tattered robes. His breaths were shallow and forced, but his eyes, though red and glossy from the wind, were deep and thoughtful. His battered image was a vision of beauty to Hermione.   


She was filled with relief and gasped, with more emotion than she would have liked to show, "You're alive."   


"It would appear so." He spoke quietly, gently, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at her.   


He stared into her soft brown eyes a moment too long before another short breath removed all emotion from his face like a flame that had been blown out.   


"Give me your hand," He directed dryly. There was a reserved quality to his voice now, as if he were giving a lecture.   


She looked over and saw her friend sprawled on the floor. Hermione's recollection of what had happened came back, and she was consumed with worry and concern.   


"Is Harry all right?" She made to get up, but found her body still very weak.   


"Stay where you are." He placed a hand on her arm. "The boy is unconscious, but he will live. He has an unbelievable knack for surviving impossible situations. It seems, for once, his luck may have carried to you."   


She sat back down, and he motioned with his eyes to her injured hand.   


She held out her palm. All that she had recently experienced had made her forget about landing on the broken glass at Hogwarts. Snape's fingers gently glided exploring the area where the glass splinters had entered. Hermione was more than a little uncomfortable with the situation. That wasn't to say the experience was entirely unpleasant. His touches and attentions, sent warm tingles through her, lessening the cold, sick feelings she harbored from her recent encounter with the Dementors. Yet, his attentions brought back memories and feelings that were difficult for her to bear.   


Snape directed his wand at her palm and chanted a Healing Spell. The glass pieces slowly wormed out of her hands, itching and prickling her as they wiggled to the surface.   


Trying to ignore the discomfort, Hermione asked, "The sparkles that drove the Dementors away, were they your Patronus?"   


She flinched slightly as a large piece re-opened a wound on her hand.   


"Yes," Snape replied, and he lightly brushed the splinters to the floor.   


She looked back up at him. "They were lovely. What were they?"   


"Spiders. Lynx spiders to be exact. They're small, but quite effective. They tend to cling better than most larger Patronuses." A slight smile emerged on his lips, as he glanced up from her hand. He paused smiling into her eyes, still holding her hand, now pink and sore, but whole once again.   


In an instant the smile disappeared. He abruptly let go of her hand, as if it burned hot, and simply stated, "You need to open your other hand." He motioned towards her clenched fist.   


Even through unconsciousness, her hand had tightly gripped her wand. Now though, Hermione could not let go.   


"I can't," she cringed as she tried in vain to make her hand obey.   


He wrapped his hands around her fist rubbing the tight tendons and muscles that had frozen into place.   


"Is Hogwarts..."   


He cut her off, "I know little more than you."   


He gently helped to pry her fingers open, though it was not easy. It took time and patience, so her fingers did not break with the pressure. Sharp pain jetted up her arm, and Hermione winced trying very hard to keep from expressing her discomfort. Her hand looked mangled and aged when he began his Healing Spell.   


As he moved to heal her face, Hermione noticed he grimmaced in pain.   


"You're injured."   


"I'm only bruised. It is nothing to concern yourself with."   


She watched him suspiciously. Hermione doubted that a simple bruise would create such a reaction, but decided it best not to force the issue.   


She now became aware of how much her face burned and itched, and she could feel cracks in her skin and lips. The sensation was frustrating, she was tempted to scratch and pull at the injured skin.   


"Your face is badly wind burned," he said as his fingers followed her cheekbone down to her chin.   


"We were caught in the storm on our way back from Hogsmeade."   


His head shot up at this statement.   


"What do you mean on your way back? What in the hell were you thinking coming back to the castle!" His words were a harsh contrast to the gentleness of before.   


"We didn't have any choice. The castle was under attack, and Harry and I went to Hogsmeade through a hidden tunnel. We tried to go for help, but the storm, and Voldemort's followers forced us back."   


Their argument was broken by a low moan sounding from across the cave. Their attentions now focused on Harry.   


Hermione noticed Snape wince sharply, as he turned to look at the still unconscious boy.   


"Will you at least let me take a look at your injuries?" She coaxed.   


Snape glared at her skeptically.   


Hermione rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.   


"You're hurt. You can hardly breathe." She paused for a moment before adding, "I'm sure I can handle looking at your chest with out losing control."   


Surprise spread on his face at her boldness, but he removed his tattered robes and unbuttoned his shirt.   


"One of those God forsaken trees slammed me into a wall. They have so many branches, it was impossible to watch them all."   


He breathed in uncomfortably. "I have some bruising on my back as well, but the worst of it is right here," Snape said pointing to his ribcage.   


The skin on the left side of his ribcage was swollen and bruised purple, red and black. The dark hues of the injury contrasted against his pale stomach. It looked very painful.   


His muscles flinched as her hand drew near. She could feel his eyes bore into her as she examined him.   


"Several of your ribs look broken."   


Snape seemed unimpressed with her assessment.   


She suddenly realized how difficult any movement would have been, and asked incredulously, "You carried me all the way here in your condition?"   


"Would you have rather I left you there?" He raised his eyebrows slightly as he spoke.   


"I can't mend broken bones, but I can cast some general Healing Spells, and wrap it up tightly. That should do for a while. You'll need to remove your shirt completely."   


She picked up his robes to begin turning them into bandages.   


"You are not tearing my robes to shreds," he grabbed one end.   


"Your robes are ruined." She said sticking three fingers through a particularly large rip.   


He sighed and said, "Continue."   


She smiled slightly. She knew he would relent. He always had. It was surprising how easily they could fall back into similar patterns.   


The implications of that made her very nervous.   


She lightly ran her hands over his bruised side, murmuring the incantation. His skin, despite the bruising, was so warm and familiar. She reluctantly pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, concentrating only on the Healing Spell.   


As she was tying up the last of the bandages, Snape closed his eyes relaxing slightly. He breathed in, this time more deeply and smoothly. Hermione looked up at him, studying him. It had been a great while since they had been this close, spoken this easily. He still looked like he had been through hell, but his features were softer than they had been moments before. He opened his eyes, and they gazed at each other in silence. Hermione felt like Snape was on the verge of saying something, when Harry stirred.   


Hermione let out a deep breath and looked away. Harry's wakefulness was a mixed blessing. Hermione was grateful that he was all right, and his presence kept her from saying or doing anything that she might later regret. However, she felt that she may have just missed something important.   


"Potter, I see you've had to be bailed out of trouble once again," Snape spat as he quickly threw on his shirt.   


"What happened?" Harry asked weakly.   


"We were attacked, by Dementors. Do you remember?" Hermione prodded gently.   


Harry nodded and made to sit up.   


Looking down at his legs, he said quietly, "They were all around us before I knew what was happening. I didn't have time..." Harry's voice trailed off.   


Hermione realized that Snape's cloak was still covering her and she felt sure that Harry would suspect something. She stood up unsteadily handing Snape his cloak and, without a word, went to sit next to Harry.   


Harry looked up at Snape.   


"Why aren't you at the castle?" Harry asked suspiciously.   


"Dumbledore ordered me to protect you. Had you stayed in the castle, rather than trying to play hero, I would be there right now."   


Snape narrowed his eyes at him, "Your complete disregard for your own life, is of no surprise, but I would have thought that you would have more sense by now than to endanger you friends for a chance at fame." There was an iciness to his voice.   


"I didn't try to endanger anyone. The castle was under attack, and I was trying to help," Harry almost yelled defensively.   


Hermione knew she needed to intervene.   


"It's true. I told you, we tried to escape to safety, to get help, but we couldn't."   


Snape's face showed such strong contempt, that Hermione doubted if he would believe anything they said.   


"Have they stopped the attack?" Harry directed his question at Hermione, though Snape chose to answer.   


"At the time that I found you two, the wards on the castle were still working, so no Death Eater could enter. You would have been much safer within the walls of Hogwarts."   


"So Dean and Trevor might still be alive," Hermione stated hopefully.   


"It's possible, if they hid in an inner room of the castle." Snape avoided looking at her as he spoke.   


"What was the Curse that caused the trees to attack?" Harry asked.   


"Voldemort placed several strong, Dark Curses on the trees using ancient magics." He glared at Harry. "Dumbledore was able to stop the initial spell, the one that merges people with the trees, but the final Curses were more difficult."   


He paused for a moment continuing impassively, "You cannot reverse the Curse, once it is cast, you can only stop the trees, vanquish them. The humans within are lost forever."   


Hermione felt as if she had been slapped with his last statement. There was no hope for the victims of the trees.   


"When can we return to Hogwarts?" She asked quickly.   


"You will not, at least not until it is safe. I will check on the castle in the morning."   


Hermione wanted to disagree, but thought any attempt would be futile. Instead, she said nothing, and neither Snape nor Harry ventured to speak, so that the only sounds Hermione could hear were their breaths and soft movements.   


As they sat in silence, Hermione realized that from her new vantage point, she had a perfect view of Snape and he of her.   


She uncomfortably veered her eyes at other things, finding the rock formations particularly interesting. Unfortunately, there is only so much interest rocks and dirt can hold for one so exhausted as Hermione. Soon, her head became heavy and she had difficulty keeping her eyes opened and focused.   


"You should sleep, both of you," Snape said. "I have no chocolate, and rest is the only real cure for the Dementors." He paused and added sarcastically, "Unless of course you wish to show the world how brave and strong you are by collapsing again?" This statement was directed at Harry, but Hermione felt distinctly put off by his snide remark.   


Eventually though the two did fall asleep, Hermione using Harry's chest as a pillow. Unbeknownst to her, Snape watched silently wishing for the first time in his life that he was the Boy-Who-Lived.   


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading and reviewing Madam Arianna, prinzess-pippi, Shelby, Isis, Spike-Lover, PowerLeca, sweetness, erisnymph, Scarlet Rose, and Linteloteiel the Elf Slut.   


Special thanks to Fleab whose question inspired this alternate ending to Chapter 4:  


Hermione dove into the cold snow as dozens of flying chainsaws jetted towards her. The wild cries and screams now mixed with the sounds of wood being sawed into, as the chainsaws dismembered the wicked trees, leaving huge piles of discarded branches, logs, and sawdust.  


As Hermione surveyed the carnage, she exclaimed, "At least Hogwarts won't have a firewood shortage this winter!"  


(SOOOOO STUPID!! I KNOW) 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	6. The Aftermath

  
By Tegan  


   
  


Echoes   


Chapter 6: The Aftermath   


As Hermione awoke from her deep sleep, she lay motionless, eyes still closed. Her body ached and trembled from the cold, hard floor, but she was too exhausted to move. She may have been prodded awake by the frigid air that seeped through her thin clothes gnawing at her very bones, or the aches in her neck and body caused by the awkward way her body twisted as she slept, or the terrible pounding in her head. She wasn't sure what had roused her from her sleep, in fact at that moment she was quite unsure of everything.   


  


As consciousness slowly came to her, she realized that she was definitely not in her warm, soft bed. A tinge of fear tensed through her, not knowing where she was or to whom the lumpy warm body beneath her belonged. Her eyes fluttered open and she was greeted with utter darkness.   


She shot up quickly and instantly found it to be a horrible mistake, as the pain in her head flooded her whole body with cold nausea. She leaned forward grabbing her head trying to steady herself.   


In the blackness, she fumbled for her wand, directing it at nothing. She muttered, "Lumos," and the small cave lit up.   


Her memory of last night flooded into her mind, and her heart began to ache with the rest of her body. She breathed in deeply and her eyes lowered to the ground.   


Next to her, Harry moved slightly. He looked peaceful, as his breath misted gently in the air. She looked around to see that they were alone with the rocks and dirt, and no apparent way to leave.   


As she moved to sit against the wall, Hermione's initial confusion was now replaced with new fears and worries, and her mind spun with questions. Snape was gone, and he had almost definitely returned to the castle. She wished she knew how long he had been gone. Her head and stomach tensed at the thought of the many horrible things that could have happened to him along the way. It was not certain by any means who had won the battle from last night. From what she remembered, Voldemort's followers appeared to have a distinct advantage, and Dumbledore had been hurt. Soon these thoughts became too much, and she brought her knees up to her chest, resting her head and breathing into her legs to calm herself.   


"Hermione?" Harry's voice pulled her from her awful thoughts. She turned her head to see him looking confusedly up at her, his eyes squinted.   


"Professor Snape is gone," her voice sounded hoarse and weak.   


Harry sat up awkwardly putting his glasses on and looking around. She realized that she felt as filthy and haggard as he looked.   


"He must have gone back to the castle," he said wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I wouldn't worry about Snape."   


Hermione did worry.   


"How are you doing?" He asked, as he moved to sit next to her.   


Hermione took a deep breath, which only made her more nauseous. "Honestly," she paused, "I feel like I've been dunked in a vat of cooking oil, then rolled around in a dust bin."   


Harry laughed slightly leaning his head back.   


"My skin feels like it's crawling," he added scratching his forearm. "A bath would be really nice right about now."   


"Any water would be wonderful," she exclaimed, as she put her head back on her knees. "My throat is so dry."   


Concern for their own safety began to weigh on her mind as well as concern for Snape's. If he did not return, she had no idea how to leave.   


Suddenly, Snape's head appeared through the stone slab.   


He stared coldly at them as he spoke.   


"We can return," and with out another word, his head disappeared back into the cave wall.   


Hermione was filled with sudden relief at his safe return, however, as quickly as all her worries had been eased, new questions replaced the old.   


Hermione hesitated for a moment before following. She had some idea where the exit was, and she knew it had to be similar to the entrance to the Hogwarts Express at platform nine and three-quarters. She stood up weakly, and carefully ran her hands over the cool rock. She was soon rewarded as her hand sank into the stone, disappearing as if underwater. Her fingers tingled slightly as she touched the magic.   


Hermione closed her eyes and slid her body through, tiny sensations running over her skin.   


When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by the snowy forest.   


The storm had ended, and a soft breeze swept through her matted hair. It was early morning and though bleak, the world was calm. The wind was gentle, though cool, and the trees, which had writhed and twisted so violently last night swayed lightly. Though cloudy and hazy, the forest was still bright enough to hurt her eyes, which made the pounding in her head turn to sharp pains.   


As Hermione adapted to her new surroundings, she saw Snape's cloak head into the dense forest.   


The group trudged through the snow, in a long drawn out line for more than a few minutes. Hermione followed as Snape's black cloak rippled in the distance. The light breeze on her face and the snow in her shoes did not bother her, as much as the questions that rang in her head.   


She had decided to keep her distance, not knowing how to act around Snape. Soon however, she found that the trees and shrubs and snow would not answer any of her questions, so she quickened her pace to catch up to Snape.   


"What happened? Is everyone all right?" Hermione asked breathlessly, when she had finally caught up to him.   


Snape's face was shuttered and blank giving nothing away.   


"The castle still stands. Dumbledore was able to break the final Curse before Hogwarts' protections were destroyed."   


Hermione watched and listened as Snape reverted back to his cold analytical self. Any hint of emotion lost with the night. Though to Hermione, Snape may have seemed unfeeling, the truth was quite the opposite.   


Deep emotions currently filled the Potion Master, brought on by the events of last night. He had almost lost the woman he loved only to later watch her sleep, wrapped in the arms of another man. Now, he had to push these feelings aside, and it was taking more than a little effort as she walked so near him. He picked up his pace a bit.   


"Are Dean and Trevor all right?" She looked up at him uncertainly, almost tripping over a stump that was in her way as they moved quickly through the forest.   


His hand went out reflexively to steady her. He glanced down, and their eyes met momentarily. An instant later, his head shot up and he dropped her hand.   


"I didn't ask," he replied dryly, not looking at her.   


Snape's short answers hardly helped ease Hermione's mind, and definitely did not prepare her for what she was to find as they approached the castle.   


From a distance, the castle looked more like a surreal Salvador Dali painting than any building or ruin she had ever seen.   


The large trees were no longer straining against the castle, but their devastation was apparent. Huge stone blocks were strewn around, as well as branches and limbs that covered the grounds and hung out the broken windows. Black scorch marks ran up the towers that twisted and curved like a roller coaster. Hermione stared in disbelief at Gryffindor Tower, which was so bent, that it arched over the main portion of the castle. Hermione wondered how the castle still stood. It was crooked in all the wrong places and huge chunks of the wall were missing leaving open gaps.   


As she neared the school, the scent of burnt hair reached Hermione's nose. She clenched her hands into fists trying not to think about the reasons for the awful smell.   


As she entered through the main hall, now missing its doors, Hermione looked up at Snape, whose expression remained hard and emotionless. The outside elements entered as easily as she, and the haze continued into the castle. In just a single evening, the Entrance Hall's appearance and atmosphere had altered dramatically.   


Hermione remembered how warm and inviting the hall had been. The towering Christmas trees had sparkled with glittering bulbs and candles, while the armor sang carols, and the large painting of a family celebrated the happy holidays. Now however, the trees lay as splinters and logs piled so high that they had to be climbed over. The armor was in pieces, parts embedded into the lumber, and the painting was indistinguishable from the masses of debris scattered on the floor.   


Owls of all sizes and shapes swooped in around them in the cool breezy air. Some were perched up above watching with small letters in their beaks. Others were gliding down the stairs to the lower levels. Still others flapped wildly leaving the area, empty handed.   


Hermione's feet crunched on smaller debris as she kicked larger pieces aside. She became saddened at the thought of what the rubble had once been.   


She assumed they would be going to Dumbledore's office, but soon realized they were heading in the wrong direction.   


"Where are we going?" Harry asked suspiciously.   


Snape chose to ignore his inquiry.   


"Shouldn't we be going to see Dumbledore?" Harry persisted.   


Snape only grunted.   


"Dumbledore must not be in his office Harry," Hermione whispered having no intention of Snape hearing.   


"Obviously," Snape spat impatiently, "The towers are hardly suitable at present."   


He stopped at the top of the stairs, and sighed, "Madam Pomfrey has turned the Kitchens into a temporary Infirmary. There are no windows and the lower levels were the least damaged portion of the castle."   


Before they could descend even a few steps, they were forced back by a large flapping owl whose wings spanned most of the stairway.   


Snape's face darkened slightly, and Hermione and Harry gave each other wary looks. Hermione sensed there was much Snape was keeping from them. The reasons for his silence worried her as much as the information itself.   


The lower levels had always tended to be cooler, but now with each step down, the temperature rose slightly.   


The corridors downstairs were still a mess, but not nearly as destroyed as the main level. Things appeared shaken, some were broken, but the objects and paintings could still be recognized for what they had been.   


When they reached the painting of a bowl of fruit, Hermione watched Snape as he harshly kicked a large pile of letters that nearly reached his knees. Envelopes of all sizes spilled out over the floor. Hermione gave Snape a questioning look, which he purposefully did not see.   


As they entered, the room looked almost pleasant. A fire was roaring behind the hearth keeping the chill out. A small bed was set up in the corner.   


Dobby was sitting on the couch by the fire sobbing, huge tears.   


Snape glared down at the wailing house-elf with disgust, striding quickly past.   


Dumbledore was sitting up on the bed with his back against several fluffy pillows. He was wearing bright red pajamas and a floppy night cap, which made him look suspiciously like Father Christmas. He looked paler than usual, but the twinkle was still in his eyes as he waved them over.   


Madam Pomfrey was standing next to him, but bustled over to Hermione and Harry as soon as she noticed them. She looked slightly disheveled and sounded very worried.   


"You poor dears! You look awful. Here, eat all of this," she cried, handing them two large chunks of chocolate.   


Hermione accepted the chunk, but its smell only made her feel worse.   


"What I'd really like is a large glass of water. If that is possible?" Hermione asked.   


In an instant Madam Pomfrey returned with two glasses. Hermione gulped the water down more quickly than she should have, the glass shaking slightly with her hands.   


She then looked down at the chocolate in her hand and sighed.   


Hermione certainly did not feel like eating anything at the moment, however she forced a small sliver into her mouth. Her stomach instantly calmed and she felt a warmness run through her. Hermione closed her eyes at this relief and took a larger bite.   


"I must insist that you make your visit short," Madam Pomfrey said forcefully, as she walked them to Dumbledore's bedside. "The headmaster needs his rest. He really should have no visitors at all. It's not everyday one gets impaled by a large tree and lives to tell about it."   


Dumbledore waved Poppy away and smiled lightly up at Harry and Hermione. Even in his weakened state, there was a strength in Dumbledore's demeanor. Snape stood against the wall as silent as a shadow in his long black cloak.   


"I am very happy to see that you are all well. It will be wonderful to send some good news to the Weasley family. They have been inquiring after you two, quite persistently in fact."   


"Is that what all the letters are about?" Hermione asked.   


"Ah," he paused and looked thoughtfully at her. "I'm afraid many of the parents feel that their children would do better at a different school, given our current situation."   


"Is everyone all right?" Harry interjected.   


"The professors and students are all fine. Dean and Trevor have been sent away for their safety."   


Dumbledore sighed, "The castle is protected by many ancient magics, as well as a few of my own creation." A small smile appeared on the corners of his mouth at this statement. "This afforded us the time we needed to break the Curses. Once they were broken, the Death Eaters and Dementors fled."   


Hermione glanced up, as Snape stood expressionless and stiff through his speech. Hermione wondered what he thought about at moments like this. Did he ever blame himself for having once pledged his soul to a monster? His face gave nothing away, and Hermione longed to understand him. The small glimpses into his mind, she had seen months ago, had crept into her heart and would not leave.   


Dumbledore's expression turned grave as he continued, "Many in Hogsmeade died however. Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks was lost, along with many others. The Ministry placed only one extra Auror there thinking no one would attempt an attack so close to Hogwarts. They blamed lack of time and information for their failure."   


Dumbledore turned to Harry adding, "It's too bad my dear boy that you did not have your premonition a few days in advance. We could have then given the Ministry sufficient time to make the wrong decisions."   


Another loud sob wailed from near the fireplace.   


"Why is Dobby so upset?" Hermione asked.   


Dumbledore looked at her somberly.   


"We lost many of the house-elves. In all of the confusion, more than a few of the terrified creatures leapt into the trees."   


Hermione walked over to comfort Dobby, whose normally perky ears hung low to his chin. His head was in his hands, which dripped with tears.   


"I'm so sorry." She laid her hand on his tiny arm. The poor creature looked up at her with his huge wet eyes.   


"Dobby should have been here. Not to take off. Little Winky is dead," he sobbed heavily. "Dobby is baaaad!" And with that he got up and slammed his head against the stone wall.   


Hermione felt her heart tighten, and had to push back her own tears as she watched Dobby's anguish.   


"Don't punish yourself that way," she comforted. Hermione walked up behind him and kneeling down to eye level, placed her hand on the back of his head. "Please Dobby, it's not your fault, no more than it was any of ours."   


Hermione realized that house-elves, for all their melodrama, reacted more appropriately than she and the others with their reserve and restraint.   


"You is good girl, Miss," he whimpered.   


A loud argument from across the room caught her attention.   


"You cannot be serious."   


Hermione looked over to see Snape arguing with the headmaster.   


"Headmaster. Surely there are better uses for my talents. I do not wish to become a glorified nanny."   


"Severus, Hogwarts is not the safest place anymore. You know as well as I that you are in as much danger as Harry or Hermione. And since we need someone to watch over them, it is only sensible that you go into hiding as well."   


Hermione's stomach tightened. Did Snape really believe he needed to be a "glorified nanny" to her? Did he still view her as a child?   


Hermione need not have worried about Snape viewing her as a child. Rather, his aversion to going resulted more from his strong feelings for her as a woman.   


She moved to Harry's side, glancing up at Snape's hard expression, his lips thin and his arms crossed.   


"I really would rather stay here," Harry implored. "Going into hiding feels like giving up. Like I'm a coward."   


Snape sneered, "I'm sure you will get your chance to play hero sooner than you may like Potter."   


Hermione thought it was amazing that Snape found time for snide comments even when arguing the same point as Harry.   


"Harry, I agree that hiding is not the solution," Dumbledore answered. "However, before we make a move, we need to be prepared."   


Harry's breathing increased and he shifted nervously.   


"Well, then why can't my godfather stay with us? If Snape, I mean Professor Snape doesn't want to, I'm sure Sirius would."   


"Unfortunately Harry, Sirius is helping me with other matters."   


"Trust me on this," Dumbledore smiled lightly. "I believe this arrangement will be for the best." And with that the discussion was closed.   


Both Harry and Snape looked very grim.   


Now only the details needed to be worked out.   


Dumbledore continued, "I would like Dobby to go. You will need a house-elf and he needs the distraction from Hogwarts." Hermione watched Snape as he stared at the ground, his expression becoming even darker. She wondered what kept him from truly arguing with the headmaster.   


"May I collect my things, before we go?" Hermione asked.   


"Yes, you all should and quickly. I will feel much better once you are all away," Dumbledore paused and became very serious. "I must warn you, Gryffindor Tower has been almost completely destroyed. Magic is keeping it stable, but it may be difficult to maneuver to your rooms."   


Snape looked up quickly, with some odd expression, which soon passed into nothing. He said dryly, "There are far too many window and open areas in that part of the castle. It would be best if I accompanied them to make sure that there are no hidden dangers."   


"Yes, excellent idea," and Dumbledore rubbed his hands together looking very pleased with himself.   


"Wait here," Snape ordered as he strode out of the room.   


He returned only a few minutes later wearing a new robe and carrying a small black leather bag. He walked silently to Dumbledore's side, body stiff, face tight.   


"Here, Severus. You should leave straight from Gryffindor Tower," and Dumbledore handed him a small teddy bear.   


Snape looked sardonically at the headmaster's choice of portkey. Dumbledore smiled and called to the house-elf, "Dobby, will you please collect your things and meet the others in front of Gryffindor Common Room."   


Dobby nodded sadly, picking himself up from the ground where he laid and walked slowly, with his shoulders hunched, through the solid wall.   


As she made her way through the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione felt as if she were in a carnival fun house rather than a school. The walls slanted and the floor tilted at odd angles. Large cracks, which allowed her to see outside, ran along the exterior wall. The wind whistled lightly through the cracks. Most distressing were the missing stone slabs, which left other stones suspended in midair.   


All the paintings near the windows were shredded. She wondered if the characters had time to escape to other paintings.   


  


The wind blew lightly on her face, and Hermione realized that her headache and nausea had subsided, though the tension in her stomach remained. She looked up at Snape, who was walking stoically in front. She would soon be spending an extended period of time near him. How was she to carry on as normal, when she felt so uneasy, and her feelings still consumed her? Even now, as they walked silently through the halls, separated by more than the distance between them, Hermione longed to be held in his arms and to bury her face in his hair.   


These thoughts plagued her mind as she trudged up the stairs to the main corridor of Gryffindor Tower.   


Once she had reached the seventh floor, Hermione looked up to see the walls twisting and turning, slanted and curved in such strange angles, she wondered how even magic could hold them together.   


They had to walk at a tilted angle uphill to reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione looked down and noticed a large gap between the floor and wall, that allowed her to see down to the next level. She swallowed nervously and focused her eyes straight ahead. When she reached the painting, Hermione saw that the Fat Lady was missing, and the empty painting hung loosely on its hinges.   


As she stepped through the hole, she entered the impossible. Hermione's mouth fell open when the full impact of what she was seeing hit her. The room tilted steeply, so that the winding stairs were now near the ceiling twisting above her head. What was intended to be up was now down, sideways or distorted so that it was impossible to tell. All of the furniture had slid or been thrown to one side of the room. The beautiful squishy chairs and rug that sat before the fireplace were now shredded and spread across the floor, rustling around with the gentle breeze. The fire had been extinguished and portraits lay ripped. Large splinters from desks and tables were embedded in cracks in the wall.   


Hermione looked up at the staircase in awe.   


How was the castle ever going to be put back to normal?   


"I can call my broomstick, if it's still in one piece," Harry suggested as they stared up at the confusion.   


Hermione did not like that idea at all. She gave Snape a pleading look, which he ignored stating impassively, "Professor McGonagall will probably have another one in her office. Wait here." Snape stepped out of the portrait hole and out of sight.   


Hermione sincerely hoped Professor McGonagall only had one broomstick, as she felt distinctly unsure of her flying abilities. She highly doubted that she could maneuver up the strange stairway alone.   


While they waited, Harry called, "Accio Thunderbolt," and the broom came twisting wildly down from the staircase landing firmly in his right hand.   


A short time later, Snape returned with a broomstick, a single broomstick.   


Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.   


Harry motioned for Hermione to ride with him, and so she and Harry mounted his Thunderbolt, while Snape glared icily at them, as he mounted the other broomstick.   


They flew slowly, but Hermione felt quite unsteady as she and Harry twisted and turned with the curving stairway. Hermione found it very difficult to keep her bearings, never sure if she was facing up or down.   


When they arrived in Harry's room, the floor was at such a steep incline that all the beds and dressers had slid to one side of the room. Much of the furniture dangled over the edge of a huge gap, which opened to the floor below.   


Hermione should have felt more balanced as she dismounted the broom, but the odd angle at which she was forced to stand, and the strange arrangement of the room gave her little comfort.   


Harry flew over to the pile and began hunting through blankets, beds, dressers, books, and other rubble for his things.   


After a few minutes and little patience, Snape began, "I believe it would be in our best interest given the time constraints to head to Miss Granger's room"   


Harry looked up from his mess and said, "You go ahead. I'll be fine here."   


There was obviously nothing that was going to jump out and attack, and Harry was a very capable flyer, so Hermione nodded her agreement.   


Snape stared down at Hermione stating, "We should fly back over to your room."   


Hermione gave him an apprehensive look as she glanced at the broomstick.   


Snape sighed, "You are forced, I'm afraid, to ride with me," and he called his broom up, for her to sit on.   


He simply stated, "Potter can meet us in the corridor when he is finished."   


Directing his voice at Harry, he continued, "Do not waste time Mr. Potter, or else we shall leave without you."   


Hermione sat on the front of the broomstick and Snape gently, slowly kicked off. They twisted through the stairs to her room. Even though his arm wrapped around her stiffly, as if avoiding any real contact, Hermione felt much more secure with him than Harry. That wasn't to say that Snape was a better broomsman than Harry, but rather that he was more aware of her safety. Though she felt safe, she was far from comfortable. His warm breath hit her hair as they flew, and his robes gently rubbed against hers. This closeness was something she wanted, yet feared.   


Luckily, her room was only one flight of stairs higher than Harry's, so the trip was short. The tower as it twisted had bent slightly back in the form of an "S" leaving her room more level than Harry's, though still slanted at a definite angle. Glass and furniture were smashed so that she had difficulty distinguishing the dressers from the mirrors from the bed.   


Snape walked over to the window, arms crossed, his back to her. The breeze blew his hair sideways exposing his long thin neck. Hermione could see the strained tendons in his neck twitch.   


She moved to the large pile and surveyed its contents, "I can't believe this is all that is left of my room."   


She rummaged through some of the larger pieces. Without looking back she added, "It feels so strange leaving here, to go live somewhere else."   


Snape sneered, "I'm sure you'll have your precious Potter to keep you company."   


She turned her head to look at him in confusion. Her words caught in her throat, and for a moment she was speechless.   


She replied uncertainly, "He's not my precious Potter."   


She added, "I haven't been interested in anyone since..." Her voice drifted off and she began loathing herself for admitting that to him.   


He looked down at her oddly and moved back down to the doorway, leaning against the frame watching her.   


She could feel his eyes bore into her and she looked up from her mess to see that his expression had altered, softened.   


His watchful eyes made her uncomfortable, so she tried to start a conversation.   


"How long do you think it will take to rebuild the school?"   


Snape sighed, "I doubt you will be coming back here for a very long time in any case."   


He continued, "Hogwarts will not survive with only a handful of families willing to allow their children to attend."   


The thought of not returning to Hogwarts had never crossed her mind. She contemplated all that she would miss, and fell silent as she absently moved debris around.   


After more than a few minutes, she had finally found several pieces of clothing. She began throwing things inside of her school bag, her trunk being smashed to tiny splinters.   


She was shaking out her dirtied cloak, when something stirred in the rubble a few feet away. Hermione's body tensed and she instantly pointed her wand stiffly at the heap. Snape rushed forward. All eyes were fixed on the pile, when it meowed softly. Her dirty ginger cat sheepishly peeked out.   


Snape was still targeting the pile, ready to strike.   


"Oh, put your wand down," she said running to the scruffled cat.   


"Crookshanks! I was so worried about you old boy," all of her attention now focused on the joy of finding her cat.   


She hugged the cat, comforting and petting his matted fur. She looked over at Snape and smiled widely rubbing Crookshanks' neck. Snape's mouth moved into something that could almost be called a smile, as he crossed his arms and stared at her intensely.   


Snape's demeanor had now changed, become gentler, more relaxed. As Hermione watched him, she wondered if he could have been jealous of her and Harry. A small twinge of hope ran through her heart. She knew that he did not need to be in love to feel jealousy, but at least he was not completely indifferent.   


He looked away and sighed. She continued her strong attentions to her cat.   


Eventually he reminded, "The time Miss Granger."   


Both she and her cat looked offendedly over at him.   


Suddenly recognition dawned on her face.   


"Oh, speaking of time," She set her cat down, who suspiciously edged towards Snape. She fumbled through a pile of large splinters that had once been a solid oak desk. After a few minutes, she held out her arm leaning towards him, her legs surrounded by wood.   


"Here," she strained. He leaned forward a bit and took the object cautiously.   


"I had grabbed it meaning to give it back to you before we left, but forgot. I never got the chance to return it afterwards. I'm sure it's an heirloom." As she handed him the pocket watch, she felt as if a piece of her heart was going with it. She had always intended to return it to him, she just never realized how difficult the actual act would be.   


"Yes, thank you," he said hoarsely. He looked a bit stunned as he ran his thumb over the engravings.   


Her school bag, as well as a makeshift bag she had created out of an old blanket were nearly filled when Snape said, "We should go."   


"I just need to gather a few things from the bathroom." She paused looking at the pile in front of the door that stood to her waist. "If I can reach the bathroom that is."   


Snape moved forward and helped her push some of it aside. He stood so near her, she could feel his warmth, and it sent little sparks through her.   


He offered his hand to help her over and her breath caught in her throat, so that a simple, "Thank you," was impossible.   


The bathroom wasn't nearly as damaged as her room, though the mirror had broken and things had definitely been jostled around. She easily gathered her things, shrinking her bags to manageable sizes, and they were set to leave.   


As he called the broom up, he asked, "What will you do Miss Granger if one day your life depends on your skills on a broomstick?"   


She sighed. It was a fair enough question, but one that she did not like to think about.   


She shrugged and mounted the broom, "Die, I suppose. But I don't think it's very likely to ever happen."   


"Let us hope not," he whispered in her ear, as he wrapped his arm around her warmly and securely.   


She looked up at him slightly, their eyes meeting. Her mouth felt dry and her breaths shortened. She thought for a moment that he might lean forward to kiss her, but that thought was soon ended as his head lifted to look over hers and he gently kicked off.   


The flight to the Common Room was much nicer than before, and Hermione would have almost believed it to be enjoyable. Snape's warm body pressed against hers, and his scent and touches were wonderfully familiar, as they gently glided down to the portrait hole.   


  


As Hermione stepped through the hole, she looked back one last time at a room that she knew she would not see again for a very long time. With a heaviness in her heart, she turned and walked into the hallway.   


She and Snape stood in the corridor waiting for Harry, as Dobby interrupted the silence every so often with a small whimper.   


Hermione's body still felt weak and warm from the flight. She watched Snape as he held the small stuffed bear.   


An image of him as a child in pajamas entered her mind, and she sadly wondered if he had truly ever been a child. He seemed so reserved that she doubted he ever ran around carefree giggling and holding his favorite toy. The notion that he may have however, was quite endearing.   


He looked at her with an odd expression, and she realized she had been grinning absently at her thoughts. She forced the smile from her lips and stared blankly at the wall.   


Soon, Harry zipped through the portrait hole. He jumped off his broom breathlessly, "Sorry, I couldn't find my picture album."   


Hermione knew how important that was to him, and hoped Snape did not comment.   


Surprisingly, he did not, choosing instead to prepare the portkey.   


The group stood in silence as Snape directed his wand at the teddy bear setting the timer. Snape, Harry, Hermione, and even little Dobby, who had to stand on tiptoes, all held onto the little bear. And a familiar tugging on Hermione's navel pulled her into the unknown. 

--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was by far the longest I have ever written.  


**Thank you all for READING and REVIEWING!! You truly have no idea how wonderful it feels to have people enjoy something I have put time and effort into.  


*Enfleurage- Wow! Your critiques are extremely well thought out and expressed. Thank you!  


*Nicolette- As you wish!  


*Fleab- Unfortunately, my interpretation of your Pinnochio-like wooden Snape would take this story into NC-17 territory, though it may end up there eventually regardless.  


**littlemandyralph- You are so cute! Your idea of writing a choose your own ending story sounds wonderful! I look forward to reading it.  


**Veresna Ussep- Scanning for the juicy bits is naughty, though I've been guilty of the crime as well.  
  


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	7. Refuge

Echoes 

Chapter 7: Refuge 

Swirling colors spiraled past Hermione as she was pulled down a long winding tunnel at amazing speeds. An invisible rope attached to her navel reeled her in, arching her body and trailing her feet behind. She could feel Snape and the others flying next to her. 

Suddenly, her feet hit an icy surface, and slid, so that she fell awkwardly into a thick layer of snow. Crookshanks landed heavily on her chest forcing all the air from her lungs. 

"Ugh," she managed to choke out as she brushed the snow off her face and wiped her eyes. She turned her head up to see Snape standing looking down at her with an amused glimmer in his eye. His expression gradually faded, and Hermione turned to look elsewhere. 

Next to her, Harry was slowly moving to stand using his broomstick to steady himself. A large rolling snowball caught her attention and she was surprised to see Dobby's head poke out. As she watched, the house-elf's huge eyes moved dizzily following the spinning world around him. 

It was cold and dark here, though it should have been early afternoon. The air smelled fresh and crisp and clean. Hermione looked up at the many enormous fir trees that covered this mountainous area, and realized that they were far from home. As her eyes moved skyward, she saw beautiful colors dancing and playing amongst the stars, unhindered by city lights. 

"Maybe Santa and his elves are nearby," Harry commented as he held out his hand to help Hermione up. 

She laughed at the thought, considering it a possibility. They already had one elf with them. 

Snape did not look as impressed with his comment. 

Hermione brushed the cold snow off her clothes and pulled out her cloak wrapping it around her body, covering Crookshanks in the process. 

Hermione noticed movements from the corner of her eye and turned to see two hideously mismatched socks poke out of the large Dobby snow ball. 

Suddenly something large swooped soundlessly over their heads. 

The group aimed their wands ready for the worst. 

"It's just an owl," Snape called out lowering his arm. 

Hermione's grip around her cat tightened. 

"I hope Hedwig will be able to find this place, if she's all right..." Harry's words trailed off. 

"It is doubtful your owl will come here. There are protectants in place to confuse owls and other messengers." 

Hermione realized that no outside messengers meant that she would no longer have any contact with her family: no cards, letters, or presents; nothing to remind her of those she loved. Gradually, everything that made her life her own was being destroyed. 

These thoughts brought back memories of her parents, and the sudden realization that they had no idea what had happened. 

"My parents, they need to know that I'm safe!" 

"I'm sure Dumbledore will inform them," Snape replied impassively. 

"Can you contact him to make sure?" Hermione implored. 

"Yes, I can contact him, but only for dire emergencies." He paused and looked her in the eyes, "Dumbledore will inform them." 

Snape seemed so sure and his assurances so firm that Hermione felt somewhat relieved, and she nodded silently. 

Dobby eventually freed himself from the frozen ball and wobbled over to the group. He trembled wearing nothing but a little tea cozy and mismatched socks. 

"Da-Da-Dobby no like the snow!" 

Snape glared down at Dobby, unmoved by his current situation. 

In the near distance Hermione saw a small one room cabin, sitting inconspicuously among the trees and snow. Its little windows were shuttered tightly closed, and it appeared to have been made out of logs, much like those that surrounded them. 

Hermione looked at the little shack skeptically. She did not wish to share a one room cabin with Snape and most certainly did not wish to share one with Snape and Harry. She could already feel her emotions take over every time she was near him. She didn't know, but suspected that he might still harbor some feelings for her as well. She could not trust her mind to lead when her heart was involved. She hoped that the cabin was larger inside than it appeared from where she was standing. 

Snape started walking towards the shack. There were no paths, no roads, no tracks leading to the cabin. As she trudged through the snow, Hermione was very happy that she had remembered her cloak. She wished she had put on her boots. She wrapped the thick wool tighter around Crookshanks, who clung to her shirt so fiercely that his claws hooked into her chest. The closer they got to the shack, the more detailed it became, though it still looked tiny and cramped. 

"You won't be able to Disapparate from here, so don't try," Snape commanded. 

Snape seemed to know a lot about this place. 

"Where are we?" Hermione ventured to ask. 

"Only Dumbledore knows the exact location. This area is unplottable." 

He sighed, "I do know however, that at this time of year, there will only be about three hours of useful sunlight, which will not occur for some time." 

Hermione was now positive they were very far from home. 

Instead of walking to the front door, the only apparent entrance to the cabin, Snape took them round the side of the building. 

"The door is not actually an entrance," he stated as he tapped on the wall with his wand in an intricate pattern, and the logs shifted into an archway. 

If Hermione had expected a one room shack, she was quite surprised to find that, like many things magical, appearances can be deceiving. 

They entered a large foyer that led to a set of open stairs and rooms above. A smaller hallway led somewhere beyond the stairs, and there were two large rooms on either side. The floor was made of thin dark planks, which she followed to the center stairs. 

"This house is not connected to the main Floo Network, though we can set up a simple system linking the fireplaces within. Portkeys also will not work in the house, and there are Alarm Charms set around the grounds. Those, as well as other protections, should allow us some warning in case we have any unwelcome visitors." 

"How do you know all this?" Harry questioned. 

"I cast the Spells," Snape replied dryly as he walked up the stairs. He added, not bothering to look back, "I'll take you to your rooms." 

Hermione took this time to examine her surroundings as she followed Snape up the stairs. She was definitely in a magical home. The walls were lined with moving paintings which waved and smiled. She had an urge to wave back, but thought the better of it, not wishing to draw Snape's attention. 

Snape showed Harry to his room first. The room was not elegant, but it was comfortable. Harry wearily threw his bag on the wide bed and flopped down next to it. 

"I need some rest before I do anything," and he kicked off his shoes and began climbing under the blankets still fully dressed. 

Hermione smiled at her friend and gently closed the door, feeling Snape's presence behind her. 

She understood the exhaustion that Harry felt, but she doubted that she would be able to sleep for some time to come. 

They walked to the next room, and Snape opened the door for Hermione. Like Harry's, her room was adequate. A large bed, that stood taller than she thought necessary, was in one corner of the room. Near it sat a dressing table and night stand. 

Crookshanks immediately leapt from her arms and quickly scuttled under the bed, his ears pushed back against his head. 

Hermione crouched down low to look, "Poor old boy, I think everything that's happened has been a bit much for him." 

She turned her head to the door on her left and noticed it led to a full-sized bathroom with a large inviting tub. 

"Oh, thank God a bathtub!" Hermione exclaimed. 

Snape watched her roam through the area; deep emotions glistened in his dark eyes. 

"I doubt even a bath will clean all this grime off me," she complained grabbing a chunk of her hair and looking at it. 

He smiled slightly, "You are somewhat disheveled." 

Those were not the words the Potions Master longed to say, but they were the only ones she would hear at the moment. 

Hermione felt uncomfortable that he noticed her appearance and she changed the subject. 

"Where are your rooms?" 

"Downstairs, they are attached to the laboratory for my research." He paused for a moment in contemplation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "When you are ready, I would like you to come down. There are some things that need to be discussed." 

Her heart jumped and tensed at the thought of what those things could be. 

"Until then, Miss Granger," and he shut the door tightly. 

Hermione looked at the bed and sighed. She was very tired, but she was also extremely restless and her body ached. She thought a soothing bath would do more than simply wash the dirt from her body, so she headed for the bathroom. 

As she stepped onto the white tiled floor, a voice gasped, "Eeek!" 

Hermione's head shot up only to see her own reflection. 

The mirror cried, "Oh my dear what ever happened to you? You must do something to right yourself immediately." 

She sharply replied, "Yes, thank you." 

Enchanted mirrors were one of the few things Hermione could do without in the magical world. She never did understand what wizards saw in them. All they ever seemed to do was nit pick. 

This time however, the mirror had a point. 

She really was an awful mess, and the sight did not improve as she slowly stripped off her torn and filthy clothes. Her muscles ached, so that any movement was an effort. She glared straight into the mirror daring it to speak and shook her hands through her hair. Chunks of dirt fell to the ground and on her shoulders and face. She scrunched up her nose as she wiped bits of dust from her cheeks. 

She sighed and ran the water hot. 

Hermione climbed over the large porcelain tub and sank deep into the steaming water allowing her whole body and head to submerge. She sat up and wiped her eyes clean with her fingers. She could feel her body lying on soot, so she emptied the tub once and refilled. This time, she laid her head back and rested. 

Now that any immediate danger had passed, her mind drifted to thoughts and memories that she would have rather forgotten. As she began to drift off, the image of a blonde girl slowly appeared. She simply stared blankly at Hermione, not moving or speaking. 

Hermione's body flinched at the image of the girl she had left for dead in Hogsmeade, sending small ripples through the water. She opened her eyes, looking around to make sure she was alone. She then sat forward and splashed some water on her face, but even that momentary shutting of her eyes allowed images to flash through her mind. The full extent of what she had witnessed hit her, so that her bath became more tortuous than soothing. 

She left the tub not bothering with a towel and let her soaked body drip as she paced back and forth in her room. 

She stopped in front of the fire and watched as the flames lapped and jumped radiating heat to her front while her back cooled as the water evaporated. 

The fire danced, so that as she stared at it, she fell into a light trance. Suddenly she felt that the flames were going to leap out and grab her like the limbs of the cursed trees. She jerked backward coming to her senses, and gasped as her heart beat furiously. She crouched down and hung her head in between her knees. 

"Pull yourself together, girl," she whimpered. 

Crookshanks, sensing his Mistress' distress, meekly poked his head out from under the bed. 

Hermione glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly through her tension. 

"What would I do without you Crooks?" She exclaimed as she firmly planted a kiss in between his ears. When she raised her head, she noticed that he looked annoyed and wet from her hanging hair. 

Crookshanks ruefully backed away and began licking his moist fur. 

Though her bath had been far from the restful sanctuary she needed, it did remove many of the aches from her body. 

Realizing that any true relaxation was impossible, but feeling much cleaner, Hermione decided she should go see Snape. 

She mechanically stood up and walked to the bed. She absently opened her purse-sized school bag, which now held much more than its size suggested. 

She threw on the first set of clothes she found and placed a Drying Spell on her hair. 

As she left her room and headed for the stairs, Hermione noticed that Harry's door was still tightly shut. 

Hermione warily descended the stairs having no idea where Snape's quarters were located. The first room to her left was a long thin library with books stacked to the ceiling. 

She moved across the hallway, to a large dining room with a long table and an old piano in the corner. The walls were plaster and painted deep rich colors. Thick, velvety curtains covered the windows, so that it was impossible to see out. 

Further down the hall there was a closed door, and Hermione cautiously moved to it and knocked. 

She heard a muffled, "Enter," and opened the door timidly peeking her head around. 

As she surveyed the room, Hermione could tell that Snape had played a significant role in the planning and development of this house. These rooms reminded her very much of the ones he kept back at Hogwarts. Oh, there were differences. The small details and colors were unfamiliar, but in all the ways that mattered, they were the same. 

There were two large rooms connected by a long bookcase. The bed was in the farthest room, and Hermione suspected that his laboratory could be entered from that room. 

Snape was sitting on the far corner of a sofa near a roaring fire, a glass in his hand. He watched her carefully as she came towards him. 

"You forgot shoes and socks," he said dryly. 

Hermione wasn't sure what he meant until she looked down at her bare feet. She soon realized that she had forgotten underwear as well. She wondered at the absurdity of forgetting such everyday things. 

"Here," he handed her what appeared to be a huge thick book. 

As she took it, she smiled slightly into his eyes. This was not how she thought this meeting would start, but she was curious as to what he had given her. 

She sat down on the other end of the sofa, and rested the dark blue book on her lap. There were no markings or title or anything on the cover that would indicate what it was, so she gently opened its pages and saw fine slanted writing that she recognized. The pages were filled with scientific notes, Snape's notes. 

"I've been working on a potion to block the Killing Curse. Since you are here, it's only logical that you should help." 

As he spoke, Hermione flipped through the pages, and unconsciously ran her fingers over the words. 

"How long have you been working on this." 

"For longer than I would care to admit, however, I feel that I'm finally on the verge of a solution." 

Hermione breathed in deeply. Working with Snape would be difficult. Already, she was aroused by his presence. Harry would probably wish to be involved as well. Having her friend near might prove a nice distraction from Snape, though she suspected that Harry's involvement would do more harm than good. 

Snape took a small object out of his robes and silently placed it on top of the book. 

She felt a warm shiver spread through her body as his hand neared her lap. 

She looked down at the gem-like relic. "Where did you get this?" Hermione gasped as her face filled with astonishment. 

"I took a short trip to Boston and procured it soon after our return." 

The Triple Spiral of Life was an ancient artifact that had broken into several pieces. Voldemort had used one of these pieces to open a gateway to an Alternate Universe, in which she and Snape had been trapped. In an effort to save Hogwarts, they had destroyed two of the three pieces, but the third, Hermione now held in her hand. 

She ran her fingers lightly over the relic. The light from the fire reflected off of its smooth edges. She gazed at the spiral thoughtfully contemplating the irony that its sister had been the catalyst for the feelings she now had for Snape. 

Hermione looked up at Snape as he lifted his eyebrows slightly. 

He had a plan, and from what she new of him, a good one. 

He stared into her eyes for a moment before pouring himself another glass of the brown liquid. As she watched, she wondered if he was as affected by recent events as she. Hermione had spent over three months with him, and in that time, had rarely seen him drink, and never to any extent. 

"I thought you wanted to avoid me as much as possible," she almost whispered. 

Snape sighed, "The stakes are too high." 

He paused for a moment collecting his thoughts. "The attack on Hogwarts and Hogsmeade was a larger defeat than it might outwardly appear. The war is as much a political game as it is a physical assault. Dumbledore and the Ministry will now be viewed as incapable of protecting the Wizarding Community." 

He continued impassively, "The Dark Lord will exploit this weakness." 

Snape looked down at his glass, "A potion to block the Killing Curse would give us the advantage we need in this bloody war." 

He brought the glass to his mouth, and did not say another word. 

As they sat in silence, she watched the light from the fire jump and play on his face. She unconsciously touched her lips, when she noticed the way the light gently glistened off his moist lips, as the glass left his mouth. 

She wanted to lean over and touch him; to run her fingers through his hair and kiss his soft lips. She turned her head away and leaned it back against the sofa staring at the ceiling. She knew she should leave before she said something she would regret, but being here with him felt so right and exciting. 

They stayed that way for a while, both thinking thoughts that wished to be discussed, but weren't. 

During this time, he finished another glass. 

She tilted her head sideways and asked, "Should you be drinking so much?" 

Snape sighed, "A few glasses will hardly disable me. I plan to go to bed soon; I haven't had any sleep in a while." 

Hermione realized that he probably hadn't slept since before the attack. 

She watched him closely. 

His eyes were red and glossy. They could have easily have been that way from exhaustion alone, but she suspected the effect was partially due to the liquor he had ingested. 

"Do you think we'll be safe here?" 

Snape laughed slightly, "I think that the sooner we perfect my potion, the better." 

His response did little to ease her fears. 

"We're somewhere in Northern Alaska, aren't we." 

"Ten points to Gryffindor for your keen deductive reasoning." His words slurred a little as he spoke. 

Hermione laughed at his lively response. 

He stared at her quizzically and asked, "How were you able to determine that?" 

She shrugged, "The Northern Lights, the terrain and the weather. It really was just a guess." 

She propped her head up on her hand as her elbow rested on the sofa back. She curled her legs around so she could see him more clearly. 

Thoughts of what Snape had said about Voldemort exploiting weaknesses ran through her mind. Everyone seemed to have them, even Dumbledore. 

She spoke without really meaning to, "You are you know." 

"What?" He looked over at her. 

She pulled her head straight laying her arm across the sofa back, and murmured, "My weakness." 

He smiled slightly rubbing his temple with his elbow on the sofa back, and set down his drink. He leaned forward resting his forearms on his legs, staring into the fire. 

Hermione looked at the shadows on his face as he thought things she did not know. He really did look tired, but he hadn't asked her to leave, and she did not want to go. 

She sighed, "I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a while. I can't even close my eyes and relax properly." Though the words she spoke were vague, the pain in her voice was clear. 

Snape looked deeply into her eyes, the blackness of his made her feel as if he could see into her very soul. 

She swallowed hard. 

He breathed in heavily and brought his hand round to hers on the back of the sofa. His gentle fingers softly caressed hers as they stared into each others eyes. 

He slid over to her until he was so close, she could feel his breath against her face. The smell of liquor overpowered any of his usual scents, but it wasn't unpleasant. He wasn't unpleasant, quite the contrary. He looked at her with such intense feeling that her breath caught in here throat and she stared frozen. 

He leaned forward and gently kissed her lips. They began as small, light kisses. He paused between pecks to look into her eyes. Gradually his mouth opened slightly, and the tip of his tongue lightly touched hers. Slowly, his kisses deepened and continued for more than a few minutes. 

Their mouths parted for a moment and she whispered without opening her eyes, "I don't want to make a mistake. I don't want to be hurt again." 

He answered simply by caressing her cheek and kissing her once more. Though filling her senses, this was not the response she wanted at the moment, and using all her willpower, she pulled away. 

"I should get back. Read," she said hoarsely, as she stood up forgetting the book. 

Snape followed her silently to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob, and he touched her hair. His caress sent sparks through her whole body and she turned back. He pressed their bodies together heavily against the door, and whispered in her ear, "I need you, Hermione." 

And with those words, all thoughts of resistance and reasoning were lost and she succumbed. 


	8. A Human Reaction

  
  


Echoes 

Chapter 8: A Human Reaction 

All thoughts and restraint instantly vanished, as Hermione's senses were filled. Snape's mouth covered hers in a deep kiss that was more forceful than she expected, taking her breath away. His passion and his words worked to increase her anticipation, heightening the warm tingling sensation that pulsed through her. 

He had told her that he needed her with such fierce desperation that his words encompassed her heart and still rang in her ears. His body pressed tightly against hers, and she instinctively responded by lifting her leg, wrapping it around his waist. His arm slid between her thighs and propped her higher against the door as her other leg crossed behind Snape's back. The door creaked slightly on its hinges as they shifted, though Hermione's mind barely registered the sound. 

The air seemed to grow thick and her head swam with sensations, so that she was oblivious to everything but him. 

He thrust hard against her and she gasped in his mouth, her hands tangled in his soft hair. She looked down at him, and he smiled wickedly up at her. The way his smile carried to his eyes, causing his wrinkles to be accentuated, endeared him to her. His nose was so near hers, she leaned down, touching the tip of her tongue to its crooked bump, tasting the saltiness of his skin. She pulled back and returned his devilish grin, gazing into his shiny black eyes. 

"You are so beautiful," he murmured touching her cheek with his thumb, his other fingers cradling her head. 

He opened his mouth and reinitiated their kiss, tongues hungrily caressing. The taste of whiskey, his taste, soon became strong in her mouth, exciting her. When he finally moved away, Hermione's lips felt cool as she gasped for breath and the moisture evaporated. 

A low groan permeated from deep within his throat and his hand moved down unbuttoning his slacks, while his mouth moved to her jawline, biting it hard. Hermione flinched and jerked her head back, allowing Snape to turn his attentions to her neck. His tongue ran a wet thin line down, and he pulled her into him tightly, sucking on her skin just above her collar. Hermione whimpered and leaned her head forward covering him with her thick layers of hair. 

His hand ran under her sweater, up the side of her waist, rubbing his fingers roughly over her ribcage until his hand was cupping her small breast. 

Hermione was suddenly very pleased that she had forgotten her underwear, and realized that they both were still wearing far too much clothing. 

The excitement was building in her. His kisses and touches were so passionate and intense, that she tightened her legs, pushing her pelvis against him. 

"I missed you," she whispered. 

Her words prompted him to hug her tightly for a moment, hiding his face in her neck. He released a deep breath and his hands moved down to her bottom and lifted her carrying her with unfocused steps; all the while, kissing and touching, until they came to an abrupt stop as they bumped into the sofa. 

Hermione soon found herself awkwardly positioned on the sofa back. 

"This will do for now," Snape smiled as he moved against her opened legs. He quickly relieved Hermione of her sweater, and his attentions moved to her collarbone and breasts, teasing and biting as her hand slipped down into his opened pants, urging him on. She positioned her toes around his waist and pulled down his slacks and underwear. 

She could feel the fire that raged behind the hearth radiate onto her back, yet its warmth was nothing to the heat between them. He quickly stepped out of his shoes and slacks, and closed his eyes enjoying the feel of her hand sliding along him. 

"Bed," he grunted as he picked her gracelessly back up, this time making it to the bedroom, and they tumbled onto the mattress together. Their remaining clothes were quickly removed, as their bodies molded into each other. 

~~~***~~~ 

Hermione lay staring at the ceiling, Snape covering her with his sleep. His arm was wrapped around her tiny stomach, and his leg was draped heavily over hers. His gentle breaths floated over her collarbone. 

Hermione reflected on the experience that had been both passionate and intense. His touches, though less delicate from drink, had been very attentive. 

She looked down at him and gently swiped the stray strands of black hair from his face. She had always loved watching him sleep. It was one of the few times that his many defensive layers peeled away. Many would imagine that he slept with a scowl on his face, but it was not so. His features were gentle and soft, much more relaxed than Hermione was feeling. 

Slowly all of her doubts and fears, which she had been pushed to the back of her mind, had wormed their way to her consciousness. She remembered the intense emotions Severus had displayed earlier, which ran from pleasure and happiness to desire and affection. Unfortunately, Hermione was not confident that these emotions would continue when he awoke. Her fears were not without merit. The last time they had been together, his apparent affections had faded quickly. 

Hermione's body tensed as unpleasant memories of their talk by the lake filled her mind. 

Whatever feelings Snape had held for her then, had not been enough for him to desire a relationship with her. She doubted whether his wishes had changed during their separation. She hoped, rather than believed, her fears were unfounded. 

And now, with her mind whirling, his closeness became intolerable. She could not sleep, and she could not bear to lay still waiting for him to awake. 

His embrace, which should have been comforting, only compounded her fears, as she realized that it might mean nothing more than a convenient sleeping arrangement for him. She worried that the man now lying so warmly next to her would soon become cold and unfeeling. 

She began to feel trapped, claustrophobic in his arms. She brought her free hand to her forehead to calm herself, but it did little to help. 

She knew she did not wish to be there when Snape woke up. If he was to reject her again, she wished to enter into the discussion with as much dignity as possible. 

She slid smoothly from under him, gently allowing his arm and leg to fall onto the mattress. Quietly she pulled on her slacks and sweater and made to leave. 

As she walked to the door, she was in such a hurry, she did not notice the large book she had left on the floor and almost tripped, as her foot banged into it. 

Looking down, she realized that research, whenever her mind cleared, might be the distraction she needed from all that had happened. She picked up Snape's notes and left. 

Luckily, Harry's door was still closed as she shuffled past. She had no idea what state of disarray she was currently in, but knew it was best not to be seen. 

She made her way into her room, closing the door and warding it before allowing herself to react to her emotions. A rush of feelings flooded into her mind, so that she felt unsteady and disorientated. Taking a deep breath, she rested her head against the wall, slowly regaining her balance. 

She knew hiding was not going to solve anything, but at the moment, she needed the solitude to sort out her thoughts. 

She threw Snape's notes to the bed and paced her room, not knowing how she felt, but definitely uneasy about everything. 

One of her more energetic paces took her into the bathroom, and she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She froze staring at her image in shock. Her hair frizzed out in strange knots and odd crimps, but that was not what had caught her attention. 

"Brilliant," she mocked as she touched the tender bruises on her jaw and neck. 

The mirror tutted its disapproval, which was definitely not what Hermione needed to hear at the moment. 

Glaring at her reflection, she pulled out her wand, and the mirror suddenly became silent. 

Hermione smiled with some sense of victory. For having no apparent brain, the mirror certainly knew when to go quiet. 

She directed her wand at the dark bruises and puffy bite marks pushing all thoughts, except those to heal, from her mind, and the bruises faded away. 

Now, if only she could as easily mend the rest of her situation. 

She plodded slowly to the bed and collapsed, covering her eyes with her forearm. So much had happened in the past two days, she could not begin to fathom the many effects these things would have on her life and her mind. 

She sighed, bringing her arm down to her waist. 

At least she knew what to expect from Snape when he awoke. She decided this time, she would not go look for him. Maybe if she avoided him as much as possible, there would be no need for their inevitable talk. 

These thoughts lingered in her head for longer than she would have liked, until at last there was a knock. 

She hesitated staring nervously at the door. 

Another knock sounded, and Harry's voice called out, "Hermione?" 

"One moment," she managed to utter, before sitting up. She took a deep breath and flattened her hair with her hands. After she had composed herself as best she could, she headed for the door. 

Cracking the door open slightly, she muttered, "Hi Harry." 

Harry smiled curiously back, holding his Thunderbolt. 

Hermione wondered where he was planning to go flying, as he asked, "Can I come in?" 

Hermione backed up crossing her arms, letting the door swing open. 

As he entered, Harry leaned his broom against the door frame and went to sit on the end of her bed. 

"What's this?" Harry questioned reaching for Snape's notes. 

Hermione grabbed the large book and set it under the nightstand before Harry had a chance to peruse the notes and question her on things she did not wish to discuss. 

"It's research," she answered trying to sound nonchalant, but not quite succeeding. 

Harry didn't seem to notice however, so she joined him on the bed, leaning her back against the head board. 

He kicked his feet as they dangled off the edge of the bed, and asked, "Where's Crookshanks?" 

Hermione pointed, "Under the bed. He's not used to the new surroundings yet." 

Harry sighed, "I wish I could say the same. I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime. I'm already bored. I can't imagine being trapped here for very long," and he flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. 

Suddenly he asked, "Do you feel like you have no control over anything?" 

"More and more each day," she simply stated. Harry didn't realize how much she felt it at the moment. 

"Everyone is always telling me what to do and where to live. I can't stay with Sirius, and now I'm forced to live with Snape," he stressed the last word with disgust. He sighed and added, "I don't suppose he can be much worse than the Dursleys though." 

Trying to lead the conversation away from Snape, she motioned towards his broom and asked, "What's that for?" 

"Well, I can't just sit around here and do nothing." He smiled mischievously, "I want to go scout out the area." 

"Harry you can't. The house is warded and unless you remember the spell to enter..." 

"It's something to do, besides I want to find out where we are. Snape's probably fine, but there is something I don't trust about him." He turned his head pleadingly toward her, "Come on, you have to be able to come up with some way that we can leave for a little while. Aren't you at all curious?" He smiled lightly knowing she would relent. 

"I suppose I could place a Binding Charm on the entrance, keep it from closing up completely. But I only have my cloak, and it is bitter cold out there." 

Harry's face lit up at this and he said enthusiastically, ready for a new adventure, "There has to be some winter wear in this house." He summoned Dobby, and they waited. 

After a few minutes, Hermione became concerned. House-elves were always very attentive, even strange one's like Dobby. 

Hermione looked at Harry who only shrugged saying, "Maybe he's busy with Snape." 

Hermione nodded slightly, but she doubted if Snape was in any state to ask for Dobby's assistance. 

Harry tried again. This time, Dobby instantly shot up through the floor like an apparition, though much more solid. 

"Dobby is sorry Harry Potter Sir. Dobby got lost." 

Though the tiny creature was no longer openly sobbing, there was an air of confusion to him. His normally perky ears hung low, and his green eyes were slightly dull. His hands kneaded together nervously. He was acting even more unusual than normal, if that was possible. 

Hermione decided it was best not to question the little elf, and began, "I need some suitable boots, and thick mittens and a scarf, anything for enduring the elements." 

The word "anything" proved to be a mistake as Dobby nodded and heaps of clothing fell around her. 

Hermione smiled, slightly rolling her eyes at Harry as they bent over picking through the pile. 

"Here, these look about right," Harry said handing her a pair of tall black boots. 

Soon, she had more than enough hats, scarves, mittens and boots for ten winters in the little cabin. Harry went back to his rooms to change, and Hermione sat down on her bed pulling on the many thick layers until she felt like the stuffing in a pillow. 

As she wrapped the scarf around her mouth and neck, she realized how livid Snape would be if they were caught. She considered whether his anger would be better or worse than the lecture for which she was already preparing. 

She met Harry at the top of the stairs, and she stomped with her heavy boots to the exit, charming it open before leaving. 

The moment Hermione stepped outside, she was very glad to have the extra layers, as the freezing wind blew across the small patch of exposed skin on her face. Ignoring the bitter cold, Hermione looked to see the sun dimly lighting the area and the most enormous mountain peak in the distance. 

"It's lovely!" Hermione exclaimed at the natural beauty that surrounded her. "Where to?" She asked, her voice slightly muffled by her thick scarf. 

Harry pointed off into the distance toward the mountains, "How about that way?" 

They trudged through the heavy snow for a while. The trees loomed high above them. Hermione noticed that although tall, they were quite thin and spread out. 

She took some comfort in the different arrangement of this forest, yet the sight of the trees, even in the daytime, gave Hermione an uneasy feeling. 

"I'm not sure what you're expecting to find out here. I think we could go for miles and see nothing but woods," Hermione said warily. 

"Let's find out," Harry replied, calling up his broom. "Hop on, I'll take you for a ride." 

"Thank you, but no. I'm more than fine just watching," and Hermione brushed the snow off a fallen log and sat down. 

She wrapped her cloak tightly around her and watched Harry zip through the trees. He really was a talented and daring broomsman. Hermione held her breath each time he nearly crashed into a branch or a trunk or the ground. His antics proved a nice distraction from her worries, and she smiled lightly. 

The chill from the severe Alaskan winter quickly seeped through her clothing. The low lying sun did as little to warm the air, as her inactivity did to warm her body. It amazed Hermione that although she had experienced a magical storm more bitter cold than this, her mind could not accurately remember the intense feelings she had experienced, so that this cold was still shocking to her senses. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the strangest bellow. The noise reminded Hermione of a strangled dragon. 

"Look!" Harry exclaimed as he zoomed by her. In the near distance, an enormous moose next to a smaller hornless one trotted through the snow. Hermione thought the smaller creature was huge, but it must have been just a yearling. 

If she hadn't recently been through the most tortuous storm, she may have even thought the sight enjoyable. As it was, she observed her surroundings with interest, but the nagging cold only made her wish to return to the warmth and never be exposed to nature again. 

The thought of being holed up in front of a warm fire was very tempting indeed. 

After a short time, Harry landed, face red from the cold, breathing heavily from the excitement. 

"I'm hungry let's go eat," he said. 

Harry looked at her seriously, "If I promise to go slow, will you ride with me back?" 

Hermione smiled and nodded mounting the broom, and they gently glided back to the little cabin. 

As she made her way to the kitchen, Hermione felt strange. She wasn't sure what her body needed, but figured food was as good as anything else. She didn't feel hungry, but she knew she should eat, as she hadn't since the day before. 

Unfortunately, dinner in a magical home with a confused house-elf was not a simple or enjoyable affair. Hermione was just about to search through the cupboards when Dobby appeared. 

"Oh Harry Potter Sir and Miss. Dobby will cook for you," he squeaked, his ears quivering slightly. 

Hermione sighed knowing all too well that it was a mistake and followed Harry into the dining room. 

A plate of the most disgusting mess magically appeared on the table in front of her. Hermione could not quite decide if the gray heap was mashed potatoes or scrambled eggs, and she looked cautiously over at Harry whose eyes were focused in horror at his own plate. Not wishing to hurt Dobby's feelings, she ventured to eat a small bite, which was quickly and not altogether inconspicuously spit out into her napkin. 

She paused for a moment contemplating her options. "Mmm, I'm really not hungry." She tried to sound sincere. She yawned, "I think what I need is rest." 

"I'm going to take some cold turkey and ham up to Crookshanks," and she pushed her chair away from the table. 

Dobby made to help, but Hermione insisted, "I can easily get it by myself, thank you anyway." 

She grabbed what she could, as quickly as possible, before Dobby decided to help again. She walked past the dining room on her way to her room and noticed Harry was still sitting, staring in shock at his food. 

When she reached her room, she entered quietly and knelt down on the floor. Holding a chunk of meat in front of her, she coaxed Crookshanks out from his hiding spot, and carried him to her bed. She sat with her cat, petting his long fur and picking apart the meat. 

And as she and Crookshanks ate, exhaustion finally took over. 

Hermione became so tired, that all of her anxiety, thoughts and feelings drifted away, so that she was no longer restless. The moment her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep; at last not contemplating the many awful things that had and could happen. 


	9. Equilibrium

  
By Tegan  


   
Echoes   


Chapter 9: Equilibrium   


Hermione lay staring at the dimly lit ceiling as it flickered gently from the fire in the corner. She had been dreading getting out of bed and had been making excuses to stay for some time. Her sleep had been deep, but not very restful. The past few days had done so much to drain her spirits, that Hermione doubted if any amount of sleep would help.   


She breathed in deeply, and Crookshanks stirred slightly as he lay curled up on her chest purring. She reached up to scruff his neck causing him to slowly knit his claws into the thick blankets that covered her. Somehow, his weight on her chest gave her comfort, and she sighed knowing she should get up.   


She gently lifted the furball from her, resting him on the soft mattress, before she moved her legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. Crookshanks looked very displeased as his hair ruffled up in annoyance, but he soon found a warm spot in the blankets and returned to his slumber.   


Though Hermione was now sitting, she was far from leaving the bed. She stared blankly at the fire, her mind dazed. Slowly, her thoughts began to wander, until she could feel warm breath and soft caresses along her skin. She sat lost in her memories, until she was pulled back with a sudden start as Crookshanks stretched out behind her. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and realized she had just spent the last ten minutes staring off into space. All the confusion and uncertainty of the past few days had left her somewhat disorientated, and she did not like the feeling. Her new surroundings did little to help her regain her balance. The small clock read quarter to eleven, though Hermione was unsure if it was morning or night. It felt like morning to her, but she was fairly certain that it was far from daylight outside.   


She shook her head and decided that some activity would help her find her grounding. Slowly, she reached below her bed pulling out her fluffy slippers and sliding them onto her feet. Standing up, she trudged to the bathroom and ran the bath water.   


Her bath was over quickly, considering the amount of attention she gave to the mechanics of washing. She scrubbed each limb thoroughly, meticulously cleaning under each nail. She made a point to wash and rinse her hair three times, scrubbing behind her ears and across her neck each time. Gradually though, the bath water began to relax her and she slowed her pace, leaning back into the water.   


As the bar of soap slid over her breast and stomach and down between her thighs, her breaths deepened, and she closed her eyes, spreading her knees. Her mind drifted to her memories of Snape's thin body on top of her, moving inside of her.   


She gasped and shot up, splashing water onto the walls and floor. She wiped her wet hair from her face, and looked around for something to distract her thoughts. It was best for her not to fantasize when very soon, she would be facing reality.   


Seeking something time consuming that would keep her mind from wandering, she decided to end her bath and manually brush the tangles from her hair. It was an unpleasant task due to the long, knotted state of her hair. It was also one which could have been easily avoided with a Detanglement Spell. Yet, picking at the many knots distracted her and prolonged her seclusion. When she could finally pull a brush through her hair, a good deal of time had elapsed, though she was still not ready to leave her room.   


She sat back onto her bed scanning the room, when the large blue book under her nightstand caught her attention.   


In spite of the thoughts Snape's writing was sure to bring up, her curiosity was piqued, and she lifted the heavy book onto the bed and began pouring over its pages.   


For a moment, Hermione was lost, pondering how much his precise and detailed script reflected the way his hands moved while brewing potions or making love. She shook her head and concentrated on the words, rather than the writing.   


His theories were fascinating. From what she could determine from her initial analysis, Snape had been studying certain variations of the Eden Elixir. This made sense to Hermione, as the elixir was one of a variety of strong protectant potions. Unfortunately, his early experiments had been met with little success.   


As she turned the pages, his notes began to involve more complicated formulas, and Hermione had difficulty following. The ingredients she knew, however, his later experiments involved combinations that should have produced potions that, when ingested, were fatal. She would need a good deal of time to examine his work, if she was to determine the logic behind it. She became a bit anxious to see his current progress and skipped to the end.   


He really was rather close to a solution, though his potion would most likely do little more than stave off death for a few moments.   


Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and Harry's voice calling her name.   


She closed the book, sliding it under the bed and made her way to the door.   


She held back a chuckle as she opened the door and teased, "How was dinner?"   


Harry rolled his eyes and groaned, "Long and disgusting."   


"Hmm, I can imagine," she cringed at her memory of the gray mush. "We have to figure out some way to convince Dobby that his assistance in the kitchen is unnecessary."   


Harry grinned mischievously, "I've thought of that." He paused clearing his throat. "I left a little mess. Maybe if we just keep him busy..."   


Hermione raised her eyebrows wondering what he meant by "little". Harry turned before she could question him, and she made to follow him down the stairs. After they had descended a few steps, Hermione jolted as a loud crash sounded from Harry's room. He turned and smiled lightly up at her.   


Whatever it was that Harry had done seemed effective, because Dobby was nowhere in sight when they reached the kitchen.   


Hermione sliced several pieces from a loaf of bread and carried them along with a plate of butter and an apple to the dining room. Though not much of a breakfast, her meal took very little time to prepare; an important factor when considering that Dobby could pop in at any moment.   


The pair sat eating and enjoying easy conversation, until Hermione's body tensed at the sound of a door closing from somewhere toward the back of the house.   


She had known that eventually she would have to face Snape. She had even planned her cool responses and unaffected remarks. But now all that planning and thought escaped her, and she stared silently at her plate, picking at the crust of her bread.   


His steps became louder and clearer, until she knew that he was looming over her. Though she did not look, she could sense his eyes glaring down at her.   


She heard Harry suggest, "Um, Dobby's not himself today. I'd go make your own breakfast before he returns."   


Hermione did not see Snape's reaction, but she heard his robes swish as he turned and strode to the kitchen.   


Soon, she heard clanking and Snape's voice bellow down the hallway, "Incompetent, ignorant, stupid creature!" His voice was much closer when he next growled, "Stay out of my way," and a small squeak sounded as little feet padded quickly away.   


This time, Hermione could not help but look up, and she saw angry eyes flash before her.   


Snape's voice was dangerously low, "When you have finished here, meet me in the laboratory," and with that, he strode off.   


Hermione stared frozen at the spot where he had stood. She knew that his words were directed at her. She also knew that saying them in front of Harry included him, whether Snape had realized it through his anger or not.   


"Snape's his usual cheerful self, I see," Harry leaned over and softly mocked.   


Hermione forced a smile at this, though in reality her mind was becoming so filled with anxiety that she did not hear his next question.   


"What?" She jerked, coming back to reality.   


Harry stared at her strangely, but repeated, "Where do you suppose his laboratory is?"   


She motioned behind her and said weakly, "Toward the back, I would guess. That's the direction he stormed off."   


She breathed in deeply, gathering her strength and composure and stood up.   


Reluctantly, she moved towards Snape's rooms, Harry next to her. As she knocked, her mind raced in a useless attempt to plan her actions and responses. When Snape failed to answer the door, Harry looked at her, "Maybe we should try another room?"   


She knew this was the entrance and had no desire to wander aimlessly pretending that she did not.   


Watching the door, she responded coolly, "What other room?"   


Harry crossed his arms and glared at her, while Hermione pretended not to notice.   


Her hand grasped the door knob to open it, but she could feel a tingle signaling that there were strong wards around the entrance. Frustrated, but not stupid, she tried knocking again, but this time her fist pounded loudly.   


Suddenly, the door flew open, revealing empty rooms.   


As she and Harry crossed the threshold, the door slammed loudly behind them.   


She had been right in assuming that his laboratory was attached to the bedroom. A medieval archway opened up in the back bedroom, and Hermione walked silently toward it.   


As she passed Snape's bed, now neatly made, shivers prickled down her spine with thoughts of their encounter. The sensation lasted for only a moment, but it was enough to make her realize the fragile state of her composure.   


She walked through the archway and down the stone steps to the underground laboratory. Her shoes echoed against the gray walls with each step until she came to the bottom. Snape looked up from his work and their eyes met.   


It was only apparent for an instant, but Hermione could sense something more behind his eyes than anger or indifference. There was a strange mixture of emotions that quickly hardened as his eyes focused on Harry.   


Their exchange made her uncomfortable, so that she shifted her attention to her surroundings. The laboratory was comprised of three long work stations. One ran along the entrance wall perpendicular to the others, which were widely spaced so that several people could work without interference.   


The far wall was lined with shelves that contained preserved specimen of all sorts. Some Hermione recognized as fruits or vegetables, but others stared out at her with unblinking eyes, adding to the chill of the room.   


"How far have you gotten reviewing the research notes?" Snape asked looking down at his cauldron.   


Harry looked a bit confused when Hermione answered impassively, "Not far. I've skimmed through them. I know your basic strategy, but no more. I will study them thoroughly the next chance I get."   


"Since you are lacking the necessary background information, I want you to start on the Portestas Potion." He moved to a stack of parchments near the end of his work station and set one of the scrolls aside.   


"Here are the directions. Potter can assist you." He paused to add a yellow gloppy substance to his cauldron, and not looking up added, "The potion will take a full month to brew, so you should start immediately."   


Hermione wanted to ask him about his plan, but her curiosity was superseded by her desire to avoid him. She looked at Harry who seemed as if he wanted to ask her.   


She walked to the station where he had placed the parchment and, picking it up, glanced over the directions, more for Harry's sake than her own. She hardly needed to look at them. She was well versed in the potion's preparation from their work on the spiral months ago in the alternate universe.   


"Use that table," he pointed toward the lab station in front and Hermione's eyes lingered on his long graceful finger. Regaining her concentration, she situated herself so that she was facing Harry, her back conveniently turned toward Snape.   


Though she could no longer see him, she was keenly aware of his every move.   


"We're not going to be here an entire month I hope," Harry complained a little too loudly.   


Snape warned coldly, "I would be careful what I wish for, Mr. Potter. The only reason we would not be, is if we are attacked."   


Harry shifted uncomfortably at his words, but remained silent.   


Hermione could hear Snape working behind her, and it took more than a little effort to concentrate on the formula in front of her.   


"What are we making?" Harry whispered.   


"It's a very powerful enhancement potion. It increases an object's magical output."   


"What sort of an object?" He inquired.   


Hermione replied, "Like a wand or a Time-Turner." She hoped her response was detailed enough to satisfy Harry's mind, yet vague enough so that she did not create new questions.   


He leaned forward and muttered softly, "Why are we making it?"   


Hermione just shrugged as if she didn't know. Technically that was true. She knew the potion would be used on the spiral to create a very strong portkey. One that could cause a rip in the dimensional fabric of the universe. For what reason though, Hermione could not fathom.   


Hermione handed Harry the list of ingredients they needed to prepare and began pouring the base solution into a cauldron, before helping Harry slice several large pieces of cactus root into small cubes.   


As she worked, Hermione could hear Snape crush something into a fine powder and pour it onto a scale. Sounds of his fingers gently sliding the weights along the instrument brought up images of his fingers gliding over her cheek.   


Suddenly, she heard him stop and walk towards her.   


"Take these. Potter can finish cutting up the cactus root," and with that he strode up the stairs, his robes flapping behind him, his boots clicking on the stairs.   


Hermione picked up the small metal cage that he had set down in front of her, avoiding Harry's questioning looks and followed.   


"Where are we going?" She demanded forcefully.   


"We need to set up the traps outside," he replied not looking at her.   


"I need to put on my boots and things before we go," she simply stated.   


Snape turned and nodded stiffly, and Hermione left. Things were not going as she had planned. Her attempts at confidence were met with mixed results, and she felt weak and unsure. Throughout the day, her thoughts had swept uncontrollably through her mind. Some were pleasant, but all were disturbing, as they interfered with her plan to remain detached.   


After she had changed, she left her room to find Snape waiting at the foot of the stairs. He watched her carefully as she took each step, closing the space between them. His face stared blankly, hiding whatever emotions he felt for her.   


They walked quickly, traps in hand, to the exit and stepped through to a cold world that was once again very dark. Hermione paused for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. Huge blankets of red, green and blue floated across the sky lighting the area slightly so that the trees were silhouetted against the mountains. The Northern lights were beautiful and would have been very romantic, if not for the chill in the air and the cold civility that separated them.   


Wolves howled in the distance, and Hermione's grip on her wand tightened.   


Snape called, "Lumos," and his wand lit a small sphere around them.   


They trudged through the snow, in silence, though the sounds of their breaths and movements combined with the wind and wolves to fill her ears.   


When they were far enough from the cabin, so that it was no longer a shadow in the dark, Snape turned his back to her and dropped the first trap.   


"Why did you leave?" He asked harshly.   


Hermione could not believe he had the gall to ask her that, and anger began to rise with in her. "Why would I have stayed?" She scoffed. "You made it abundantly clear last time that you weren't interested in having me around, but for a bit of fun." Her breathing became sharp and erratic. The short spurts, combined with the frigid air, made her head spin.   


Snape's demeanor suddenly softened as he stared at her first in shock and then with understanding.   


"Hermione stop." He dropped the second trap and moved near her. "Stop," this time it was a whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.   


Her arms quivered as they came around his waist slowly and unsurely.   


They stayed there holding each other, her breathing gradually returning to normal. His body kept the cold from creeping through her clothes, though she doubted if any outside force could have distracted her from his arms.   


They parted slightly, and he sighed, allowing a large puff of steam to escape. His hands moved down to hers.   


He looked down at their hands and began slowly, "I have no intention of ending this."   


She glanced up at his face. He was certainly uncomfortable, but his face also showed compassion and affection. She didn't want to force him to declare his feelings for her in any great detail, but she did want clarification. She asked weakly, "You have no intention of ending this so long as we are here, or ever?"   


"Both," he simply replied as he gazed into her eyes.   


Hermione swallowed hard as the emotion in his voice, drifted to her heart. She knew how difficult it was for Snape to show affection, so that when he did, it was heart-felt and honest.   


He paused leaning his head against her neck and bring his arms back around her, "There are complications though. So many that you may very well decide it isn't worth continuing."   


As they stood in each other's arms, Hermione could not imagine any obstacle that would make her wish to be away from him.   


Eventually he pulled back and said hoarsely, "It's getting far too cold to continue talking here. If I connect our fireplaces, may I visit you later?"   


Hermione nodded staring into his dark eyes. Slowly, the pair turned back to the cabin, holding hands and walking very much together.   


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

*Thank you Dani, Kylee, Veresna Usep, Nicolette, Hopeful Writer, Squirrel and BethAnn for reviewing.   


Tracy and besnaped- I haven't mentioned any birth control or precautions, because I couldn't find a tasteful and creative way to present it. Let's just pretend that as students enter Hogwarts they are protected from pregnancy until they graduate. (This is fantasy land after all) A pregnancy might be an interesting area to explore, but I have never been pregnant and wouldn't know how to go about writing it convincingly. I hope no one is too disappointed.  


deSevera- I really don't want Snape to be a bastard either, though I've read some fantastic stories where he was just that!  


Aurinia- I'm so glad you like my lame attempts at humor! Most of my students(I teach middle school science) find my humor pretty dumb once they reach their teens. It's nice to see that an adult finds enjoyment in it.  


I've read quite a few wonderful stories from many of you. It feels really nice to read reviews from talented authors!   


Thank you everyone for Reading and Reviewing!  
  


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	10. Moments

  
By Tegan  


   
  


Echoes   


Chapter 10: Moments   


Hermione was more than a little anxious as she paced her rooms. Her strides were closely followed from the bed as Crookshanks' head moved back and forth with her movements. She glanced at the clock as she passed. It had been more than an hour since she had made her excuses and retired to her room, but still nothing. She sighed and moved next to her cat. Hermione's hand lowered to rub Crookshanks' furry scalp, and he leaned into her closing his eyes.   


"I'm pleased at least one of us can relax," Hermione muttered as her fingers moved to scruff his chin.   


Crookshanks responded with a loud rhythmic purr.   


Grudgingly, Hermione plopped down next to him. She had much too little patience for this waiting game. She tried forcing herself to sit calmly, but her senses were on edge, listening and searching.   


As the minutes ticked by and nothing changed, Hermione began to fidget nervously. Finally giving up any attempts at patience, she shot up and strode the length of the room once more. The burning logs in the fireplace crackled and Hermione's head turned quickly, her eyes expecting to find more than just flames. Every little sound or movement grabbed her attention in the hope that Snape would appear.   


She stopped for a moment staring at the fire. Taking in a deep breath, she gently wrapped her arms around her torso and reminisced on recent events. Overall, it had been a trying, but rewarding day.   


She and Snape had walked back to the cabin as silently as they had walked from, but things had been far from the same. Warm emotions and relief flooded her body, so that she had been quite content to say nothing.   


Hermione sighed and realized that she had never been one to express her feelings. She could elaborate for hours on any book subject, but she tended to shy away from intimate conversations. Hermione knew others considered her a know-it-all, and she supposed that her intelligence had always shielded her from having to expose herself. That was the major reason she could never imagine herself with someone like Ron, who tended to have little control over his emotions.   


Snape, however, would not be one for deep emotional discussions, and that suited Hermione just fine. That wasn't to say she did not want to know what he felt and thought. In fact, she had never been interested in anyone's feelings more. Rather, she believed that once expressed, the matter no longer required discussion.   


She sat down on the floor leaning against her bed, and Snape's dark blue book caught her attention. She glided her fingers across its soft leathery cover, and her mind drifted.   


After they had returned to the lab, the rest of the day had progressed very slowly. Snape barely spoke and never looked at her. It surprised Hermione how easily he could revert to his characteristically cold self. She figured years as a spy had taught him well. As for herself, she had made a valiant attempt to concentrate on the potion. It had been early enough in the brewing process that starting over wouldn't have been difficult, but she had not wanted to lose Snape's respect by making a simple mistake. Between concentrating on the potion and reveling in thoughts of their hug and talk outside, Hermione had become quiet and pensive.   


An uneasy feeling drifted through her as she remembered Harry's reactions to her behavior. He had obviously misconstrued the situation, giving her sympathetic glances at what he must have believed to have been an unpleasant experience with an unpleasant professor.   


His reactions made her realize that she had to be much more careful of her behavior. She knew he had recognized her emotional turmoil. How could he not have, but she doubted he suspected its true cause. Now that she and Snape had decided to continue their illicit affair, she could not give Harry reason to suspect.   


She stood up, crossing her arms tightly around her, and began pacing once more. This time pondering Dobby's absence during dinner. She and Harry had formulated several creative ways to distract Dobby, but in the end, none were needed. The only person not surprised by the little elf's absence was Snape, who had confidently strode into the kitchen and prepared dinner. He had cooked a wonderful meal which had surprised Harry even more than Snape's cooking skills had surprised her when she had first witnessed them in the alternate universe. Thinking back, Hermione realized that what she had thought had been surprise had also been suspicion and distrust. Harry had been reluctant to taste the food, smelling and scanning each bite before putting it in his mouth. She smiled remembering the fearful look on his face as he ate.   


After dinner, Hermione had made her excuses and left for her bedroom.   


And now, she waited not so patiently for Snape to visit.   


As Hermione stared blankly at the fire, the yellow and orange flames suddenly began to glow a bright green and Snape's head called out impassively, "Miss Granger. May I come over?"   


She knew his carefully chosen words also meant to ask if she were alone.   


Her arms fell down to her sides, as she tried to relax and replied, "Yes. Of course."   


In an instant, the flames shot up high, and dark soot puffed out, as Snape's tall figure hunched over to step through.   


He had removed his outer robes and was now only wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks. At first he did not look at her, but rather began methodically brushing the soot from his shirt. After spending more time on the task than Hermione thought necessary, he crossed his arms and stared searchingly at her. If he normally appeared rigid and stiff, he was even more so now. Hermione noticed that, though somewhat shuttered, his face bore a distinctly uncomfortable expression.   


She moved back, settling on her bed next to Crookshanks and turned her attention to his soft fur, still aware of Snape as he continued to watch her.   


"Is your door locked?" He asked in a cold, harsh voice that would have bit at her frayed nerves had Hermione not felt that he was acting more from his discomfort with the situation than from his feelings for her.   


"Locked and warded." She looked back up at him nonchalantly.   


Snape's eyes moved away from Hermione and traveled about the room scanning.   


He appeared unimpressed with her security measures, and he moved about the room inspecting the wards. She watched him direct his wand at the walls and door, casting more than a few spells, including several Locking Charms and a Privacy Spell.   


Hermione rolled her eyes at his excessive precautions and suspected he was stalling. She had never seen Snape so far from his comfort level.   


She watched as he stood facing the wall, running his hand over the plaster. His movements though forced and stiff were quite distracting.   


As he moved about the room, Hermione began to wonder how many true relationships he had experienced. Hogwarts did not seem to be an environment that would easily foster romantic relationships, considering the only female teacher near his age was Professor Trelawney, and she certainly did not seem his type. The image of Trelawney fawning over him, while she forced him to listen to her ridiculous premonitions flashed through Hermione's mind.   


She shook the absurd thought away and decided it was time to take the conversation where she knew it would end up. She called out, "What did you mean before about complications?"   


Hermione watched as Snape's rigid body tensed even more as his body froze, his hand still against the wall.   


"Hermione.." he trailed off as if trying to decide how to best verbalize his thoughts.   


After a moment too long, Hermione replied, "Yes, Severus?" She felt the strangeness of his name after so many years of calling him Professor, and a smile appeared on her face.   


He glanced back at her and turned toward the bed. As he moved closer to her, he focused a menacing glare on her cat.   


Crookshanks leapt off, scurrying into the bathroom, and Snape sat down.   


Hermione smiled warmly up at him, though a small tingle of nervousness ran through her body. Her smile seemed to be the incentive he needed. He leaned over and kissed her, rather stiffly at first, but quickly softened as his shoulders relaxed. She felt his hands slide down to her thighs, as he deepened their kiss. A burnt smoky odor covered his familiar scent, and soot fell from his hair tickling her nose.   


Gradually they parted, and a wide grin covered her face.   


"The fireplace seems dirtier than normal," she remarked, as she wiped some of the dust off his nose and cheek.   


The edges of Snape's mouth turned upward slightly.   


She looked down at her lap and touched his fingers lightly with her own as she coaxed, "So, you were going to explain the complications."   


He cleared his throat and began cautiously, "Well at present, the Potter boy." He quickly added, "and other obvious problems, such as you are still my student."   


Hermione looked up at him strangely. His voice was neutral, but there was an air of tension in his words.   


"I think you need a school for that." It was the truth, but not something she should have said at the moment, as Snape glared at her.   


Taking the hint she asked in a more serious tone, "What will happen if," she corrected herself, "when we go back to Hogwarts?"   


He breathed out a sigh that seemed to carry with it much of his anxiety, "As I said, I have no intention of ending this. We will need to be discrete, but I'm sure some arrangement can be made." He paused, shaking his head slightly, "The problems arise more from who I am than from anything to do with you. Unless something significant changes, we won't ever be able to have a relationship openly."   


Hermione understood the meaning behind his words and his reasons for warning her, yet they meant little to her. She felt it was precipitous to think of their relationship in terms of the future. She had only ever been in one other short relationship with Victor Krum, so she had little experience assessing her wants and needs. She was hesitant to express these thoughts though, fearing they would only emphasize her youth and naiveness.   


Instead of answering him with words, she knelt, so that her face was level with his, and kissed him gently.   


This he readily responded to, his posture relaxing and becoming much less formal.   


Hermione smiled into his eyes, her arms hanging loosely around his neck, and she asked lightly, "So what did Dobby do yesterday that had you so furious?"   


Snape's faced darkened slightly, and he spat, "He is the most incompetent creature."   


His grumblings were interrupted, when she slid her left leg over, straddling his lap.   


"He's been through a great deal. Give him time," she said softly, as her fingers swept a bit of stray hair from his face.   


Snape looked doubtful.   


"Nevertheless, I have," he paused looking down in contemplation, "spoken with him, and he will no longer be helping with dinner."   


Hermione's eyes widened, "I hope your talk didn't scare him off completely." She added, "Though I suppose he'd be used to worse, having had the Malfoys as masters."   


His head shot up.   


"Dumbledore sent us a house-elf who used to belong to the Malfoys?"   


There was a sharp edge to his voice, which Hermione chose to ignore as she casually replied, "Yes, but Harry was able to trick Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby." Seeing his concerned looks, she added quickly, "Dobby is very trust worthy. He tried, in his own strange way, to save Harry's life second year."   


Snape's concern was not pacified by her testimony. "House-elves are known for their loyalty to their masters, even those who have been freed would never betray their former masters. It is extremely unwise to have him here."   


Hermione let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of Dobby being dangerous.   


She watched Snape's face darken. Before she could act, he pushed her back onto the mattress, holding her wrists in his large hands.   


Snape pressed against her, pinning her down and murmured in her ear, "Do not take my warnings lightly." His voice was low and dangerous. "If you think I'm being paranoid, keep in mind who Voldemort's other spies have been. It is not unreasonable." His hair gently floated across her face as he lifted his mouth away from her ear and stared down at her.   


"I still don't think Dobby is a spy," she answered, wrapping her legs around his waist.   


"Perhaps not, but it's best to trust as few people as possible."   


"Hmm." She considered his words as she gazed into his eyes. "Do you trust me?"   


"Yes," he whispered.   


She wiggled a bit underneath him, which only made him press heavier against her. He leaned down and kissed her lips. When he lifted his head, he smiled wickedly.   


"You however, should definitely not trust me," and with that his head moved down to her breast allowing his teeth to tease her nipple as it stood erect under her blouse.   


She responded with a throaty chuckle that turned into a yelp as he bit harder. And soon, they were passionately moving together.   


~~~****~~~   


Hours later, Hermione was nudged awake as Snape slid out of bed.   


"Hmm, Severus?" She reached out her hand to find him.   


"Shh," he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Go back to sleep."   


"Where are you going?" She rolled on her side to face him and lifted herself up on her elbow.   


"Back to my rooms. I can't sleep," He leaned down and kissed her sliding his hand down her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."   


Hermione let her head fall back down onto the pillow, but watched his silhouette as he dressed. As he buttoned his slacks, she studied the dark hair on his chest that was accentuated by the dim glow of the fire. She had an urge to run her fingers through the dark curls. His shirt soon floated around him, and he left it hang loose, as he bent down to slide on his shoes. She watched as his hair fell forward covering his face. Only the bridge of his nose peaked through. Without another word or glance, he quietly slipped through the fireplace, and she was alone.   


Hermione rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. She could still feel his warm touches and body. Her leg slid over to where he had lain, and she smiled at the memories that rushed through her. His presence was very comforting. Even now that he had returned to his rooms, she could still smell and feel him on her worn, but satisfied body.   


She sighed knowing sleep was hopeless and went to study his notes.   


In the hours that followed, Hermione began to understand Snape's reasons for combining such odd and dangerous ingredients. She needed reference material to check her thoughts and reaffirm her knowledge, but it was getting late, and she had hoped to catch a few minutes alone with Snape before Harry awoke.   


She hurriedly bathed and dressed, and in very little time found herself ready to leave.   


She stepped out into the hallway, quietly closing her door, so as not to alert Harry. His door was still tightly shut, and she suspected that he was as yet asleep. Quickly, she made her way to Snape's rooms.   


Hermione knocked on the door, and it swung open. As she entered, she found Snape in his laboratory, already busy above a cauldron.   


Moving his attention away from his work, he nodded to her giving her a momentary glance that warmed her heart.   


"Where is Potter?" He asked suspiciously.   


She walked next to him letting her arm gently brush against his robe and paused to look down at the bubbling potion before she replied, "Still in bed I think."   


"You should go back and get him. It is unwise to spend too much time noticeably alone with me," and with that, he moved to the other side of the laboratory to gather another ingredient.   


This was not exactly the welcome she had hoped for, though it was not completely unexpected. She was about to leave when he turned back and said, "Wait a moment."   


"Here," he directed, handing her a small satchel.   


She opened it to find that it contained a silvery powder.   


He grabbed her around the waist and murmured, "Tonight, I think it only fair that you should come to my rooms."   


He leaned down and kissed her softly.   


She looked back at the entrance to the laboratory, "What if Harry shows up?"   


"He must knock first, and I don't need to let him in."   


After a few more kisses, and with the knowledge that they did not have time to finish what was started, Hermione backed away and went to find Harry.   


She was a little hesitant about seeing Harry after her behavior yesterday. She really wasn't sure how she had acted, she hadn't been thinking much at all, but Hermione was sure she did not wish to be questioned about it.   


She knocked on his door, and after a few seconds heard a muffled, "Coming."   


Harry was still in his pajamas and looked like he had been through a rough night. His hair was even more tousled than usual, and he had lines running down his face from his pillow.   


"Sorry to wake you. I thought we could get an early start on the Portestas Potion." She paused backing away slightly, "If you would like to rest for a few more hours, I can come back later."   


Harry shook his head and backed up allowing her to enter.   


Hermione watched as he shuffled over to his nightstand and struggled to right his glasses on his nose. "It will only take me a few minutes to get ready," he said hoarsely. He opened the dresser drawer and, pulling out a sweater and a pair of jeans, plodded to the bathroom.   


Hermione turned to his bed. The disorganized state of the blankets and his appearance hinted at a restless night. She hoped that nightmares had not kept him up. As she pushed the quilt aside and sat down on the edge of the bed, she heard the bathtub fill with water.   


In less time than it had taken her to ready, Harry was standing by the bathroom door, dressed and cleaned and much more alert.   


As he slid on his shoes, he asked, "What do we need to do today?"   


"We need to combine the ashwinder eggs and mandrake juice. That's about it."   


"That sounds easy. Why did you want to start so early?" Harry questioned, while opening the door.   


"It is a bit more complicated than it seems."   


Her statement was indeed true. The ashwinder eggs were leathery and did not readily mash into a smooth paste. Hermione let Harry work on the paste, while she focused on making sure the cauldron was simmering at the precise temperature.   


This time Hermione did not mind facing Snape. She glanced up at him every so often to watch his graceful movements. His eyes were always focused on his work, and his hands moved swiftly, but meticulously, measuring and adding ingredients.   


As Hermione was working, she noticed little mice scurrying in cages on the side lab station.   


"What are the mice for?" Hermione inquired.   


Without looking up from his cauldron, Snape replied, "Experiments."   


"Why didn't you just transfigure some mice?" Harry asked.   


Snape was obviously annoyed as he coldly responded, "We are trying to determine the effects of Avada Kedavra on living things. You should know that transfigured creatures take on the appearance of that animal, but lack true life."   


Harry's eyes widened in shock, as he exclaimed, "Why the hell are you working with the Killing Curse?"   


Snape retorted, "If there is any hope of defeating the Dark Lord, we must be able to survive the encounter."   


Hermione's hand moved placatingly to Harry's arm as she calmly clarified, "He's trying to develop a potion that will be resistant to the Killing Curse."   


Snape appeared much more relaxed this morning and was even handling Harry's questions with cold civility, so Hermione ventured to ask, "How do you hope to defeat Voldemort?"   


Snape paused, gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice took on the dry nature of a professor giving a lecture. "The Portestas Potion can be used to increase the magical output of almost any magical object. If we apply the potion to wands, I believe that several Killing Curses directed at Voldemort will have much the same effect that his curse had when it ricocheted off Potter."   


"Yes, but that didn't kill him. It only destroyed his body. He came back," Hermione argued.   


"That is why I have the Spiral. I can open a dimensional portal to an incomplete universe and send Voldemort's vapors there with no hope of returning. He would be as good as dead, as far as we are concerned," his words had an arrogance to them that made Hermione reluctant to question him further.   


Still, as Hermione considered his words, she decided that his plan relied far too much on timing. She pushed her worrisome thoughts to the back of her mind and glanced over at Harry who was pounding absently at the eggs.   


"If you're not careful, the paste will be too milky to use," Hermione cautioned.   


Harry jerked out of whatever thought he had been lost in and muttered, "Sorry, Hermione. Here." He held out the mortar which contained the gloppy mixture, "Is it still all right?"   


"Yes, I think so," and she added the mush to the cauldron.   


"What do we do now?" Harry asked.   


In reality there really wasn't much else to do. At least nothing that could sufficiently occupy two people's time.   


"Not much else for today, but I will need to keep a close eye on the mixture for the next several hours."   


They both stood there looking down at the simmering potion for a few minutes until Harry broke the silence by announcing, "Christmas is tomorrow you know."   


Hermione had not thought about it, but now her day was somewhat dampened by this reality. She glance up at Snape, who was ignoring their conversation.   


"I'd almost forgotten," she sighed. "It certainly doesn't feel like Christmas."   


Harry bumped her arm, "Maybe we could decorate the place a bit later."   


Snape's voice suddenly cut through their discussion. "We hardly have time for such nonsense."   


Hermione looked up at him incredulously. Considering what they had been up to lately, decorating seemed harmless enough.   


"Just a tree or so wouldn't take too much time," Hermione interjected.   


Snape did not answer, so Hermione continued. "We could go quickly after dinner."   


"You two are not wandering around the forest by yourselves." Snape paused and added, "However, I do need to check on the wards and spell protecting the area. You may come along to find your tree, but be quick about it."   


Dinner came and went with no sign of Dobby, and soon they were all standing by the door to head outside.   


Though they had just eaten dinner, the sun was just beginning to rise. As they trudged through the snow, Hermione mused at how different things were from what she had expected. She had thought her time with Snape would be unbearable, but instead it was more than pleasant. The excitement she felt from this new romance dulled the melancholy she would surely have felt at being away from her family this Christmas. Their relationship also distracted her from dwelling on the attack and destruction of Hogwarts. Their work gave her hope, so that while she should have been quite a mess, she felt balanced and strong.   


She searched for Snape, who, off in the distance, was examining the area.   


She and Harry stopped at a small fir tree.   


"Did you know that even though this tree is small, it is probably very old. Trees in the forests of Russia and Alaska grow very slowly," Hermione explained.   


Harry glanced at her smiling. "How do you know so much trivial information?"   


"I read about it for Herbology. Slow growing trees of the tiagra are the main ingredient for aging potions."   


Harry bumped affectionately into her and chimed, "I'm glad you're back to your old self, Mione. I was getting a bit worried about you yesterday. You seemed preoccupied."   


Hermione chose not to reply to his comment.   


Harry didn't seem to notice, and asked, "Do you feel bad that we're destroying something that has taken so long to grow?"   


She thought about the castle and how in a single night, so much destruction had occurred. "Hmm, honestly, I doubt I'll ever be able to feel empathy for a tree."   


Harry chuckled his agreement, and the tree was soon being dragged behind them to the little cabin.   


Snape returned sometime later, and they set up the tree in the library. He sat with a book in front of him, but Hermione noticed that his eyes were often focused on her as she floated glass bubbles from her wand to the tree. Though his face was shuttered and blank, she could sense a smile behind his eyes.   


Her mind now drifted to other, smaller matters that had suddenly become important to her. Christmas was tomorrow, and she had nothing to give anyone. Remembering Harry's present had been the last thing on her mind when she had packed, and she had never even considered giving anything to Snape.   


Dobby was easy enough to please. She could simply add some odd shapes and colors to a pair of socks, and he would be thrilled. Hermione could also easily transfigure one of her sweaters into a famous Weasley sweater for Harry. She thought the familiarity of such a gift would be nice in the absence of the real thing.   


However, Snape was a different story. She knew he would find no amusement in a Weasley sweater, and he appeared to never want or need anything. Hermione had glimpsed his true self a few times, but he was still a mystery to her. She doubted if he would greet any present with much enthusiasm. He didn't seem very pleased with Christmas in general.   


As another blue bubble popped out of her wand, she was struck with an idea. It was not the most romantic present, but it could be enjoyable; and she was fairly certain he would be appreciative, if he gave it a chance.   


  


  


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Your words mean so much to me!  


*PowerLeca- I really appreciate all of your advice. I have similar concerns.  


*Veresna Ussep, Severely Snaped, littlemandyralph, and Ibex's Lyre- Yeah! Four of my favorite authors were the first to review!! For anyone who hasn't read their stories yet, you should.   


**kiwipixie- Thank you, and I think you have a point. I'm not very good at reading people either.  


**Tracy, besnaped, Kylee, Shelby and Mandy- Thank you so much for your lovely words! besnaped and Shelby- You two have been so wonderful and supportive since I started writing, thank you! (ps. Tracy- It's really nice to hear that you were thinking about the story and predicting what might happen. The teddy bear thing was completely unintentional, but I can absolutely see why you would have thought that!)  


**Nicolette and Beth Ann- You two are wonderful! I love your stories as well! (and Nicolette, you left us with such a cliffhanger, I've been thinking about Hermione's reaction it all week!) 

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	11. Christmas Part I

  
By Tegan  


   
Echoes   


Chapter 11: Christmas Part I  


Hermione entered Snape's room with a flurry of soot. The trip had been a short, but disturbing experience. She had felt brick walls brush against her, yet she had seen nothing, her vision clouded by smoke and ash. As her feet hit the floor, she lurched forward gasping, only to have her lungs fill with the black particles. She coughed violently, her throat burning. Eventually, she composed herself enough to glance up with watery eyes and was greeted with a rare look of amusement, as Snape watched her from the sofa.  


The sides of his mouth twitched slightly, but soon, his face became blank again. He looked down at his book and asked rather harshly, "Why are you here?"   


Hermione was confused and replied hesitantly, "I'm not sure what you...."   


"Because I was expecting you last night," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.   


She paused wiping the dirt from her clothes and hair, formulating her response.   


Hermione had meant to visit earlier, but Harry had other plans for her. There was obviously more bothering him than he would ever admit. Harry had kept her in the library under the pretense of needing a partner for chess, but Hermione suspected that he wanted her company for other reasons. Her concerns were heightened as she remembered Harry's tired and wistful words. They had played and chatted into the night, but their conversation had been far from lively.  


When they had finally parted, Hermione had still needed to prepare and wrap Christmas presents. Harry's and Dobby's presents were finished in very little time, but Snape's would need more work. She had decided to finish his present later, so that she could spend time with him now. Though very tired, she had been anxious to see him and had left not expecting him to berate her for her efforts.   


Hermione was tempted to point out that it was technically only early evening, if they followed Alaskan time, but she resisted the urge. She was far too exhausted to argue, and she dryly stated, "If you'd prefer, I can leave."   


"I would have preferred that you showed when you said you would."   


Her fists clenched tightly, as she held back a scathing retort. She moved to leave, but was stopped short by his voice softly calling out, "Come here, Hermione."   


The pull of his voice was stronger than her annoyance at his condescending attitude, and she turned back, her arms crossed defensively.  


She approached him tentatively, stopping so that her calves leaned up against his and stared wearily down at him. Even if she had been overjoyed by his words, she doubted if she could have forced a smile at the moment.   


"You look tired," Snape stated, setting his book aside. He sat forward slightly, taking her arms in his hands, coaxing them apart and toward him. Hermione gave little resistance, and soon she was lying with her head in his lap.  


"If you need more sleep, you should get to my rooms before three in the morning." His words were still sarcastic in nature, but his voice and caresses were now gentle and affectionate. Her senses tingled from his silky voice and the feel of the smooth cushions and his warm lap. Hermione whimpered in pleasure as his fingers drifted to her neck, and she stretched out farther on the sofa. She absently kicked off her shoes and they fell, clunking onto the thin rug.   


"Mmm," she moaned closing her eyes and cuddling up against him, so that her face was buried in his stomach. She could smell his spicy cologne as it intermingled with his faint human scent through his shirt. Her arm moved behind him, and she relaxed. She mumbled something into his stomach, causing it to spasm slightly. Snape gently rolled Hermione onto her back, and she opened her eyes.   


"Little buzzing fairies are more intelligible than you at the moment," he griped, a small smile appearing on his face.   


Hermione saw the affection in his eyes and repeated, "Harry didn't want to go to bed, and I didn't have the heart to leave him." She paused, considering her words, "I think he's been having nightmares."   


Snape responded by moving his fingers through her bushy hair, as it spread out across his lap. The crackling fire radiated heat from behind the hearth and molded with the sounds of Snape's breathing, relaxing her. His touches, which had sent tingles through her, now soothed, drawing her deeper into a warm abyss.   


After a few short minutes, Hermione had fallen somewhere in between the state of dream and wakefulness when Snape called her name.   


It took some effort, but slowly she opened her unfocused eyes. He was staring down at her, expecting her to answer the question that she had not heard. Her lips would not move, but a weak moan escaped her mouth. Snape leaned down and kissed her forehead, and soon she was asleep.   


When she awoke, the room was dimly lit, and she was lying on a large bed with thick quilts covering her. She was slightly dazed, but felt encompassed and safe. Better still was the bliss she felt, as she became aware of the warm man sleeping next to her.   


Unsteadily, she lifted her head to try and determine how long she had been asleep.   


To Hermione, it felt only a few minutes, but she suspected she had slept much longer. Her movements stirred Snape awake, and he turned and wrapped his arm around her protectively.   


"Don't leave," he murmured, his hold around her tightening.   


"What time is it?" She weakly yawned.   


"We still have a few hours." He paused to nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck. "Go back to sleep," he whispered warmly against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.   


His gentle breaths continued against her neck, tickling her senses, and she giggled slightly. Hermione closed her eyes, relaxing against the warmth of his body.   


She smiled, turning to face him and murmured, "Happy Christmas." His eyes glistened in the dim light, but his face contorted into a grimace as his mouth moved next to hers.   


"Hmm," he groaned, his voice vibrating against her skin.   


"You have little appreciation for the holidays, I see," she teased as she draped her arm over his neck.   


"You are wrong. I have a great appreciation for the lack of little miscreants that the holidays bring. Christmas, however, I could do with out."   


"Well, there is only me and Harry to deal with this year."   


"I could definitely do without Potter," he grumbled and paused to kiss her neck, "but your presence is making this one of my better Christmases."   


Hermione smiled at the implication of his words, and they stayed silent, lost in thought.   


Slowly, Hermione's mind drifted to her family. She longed for their company, and wondered if they missed her as much as she missed them. An image of her parents waving happily to her flickered through her mind, and began to feel an emptiness build inside of her. It had been so long since she had spent time with her family that she was beginning to forget the details of her mother's mannerisms and father's gestures. She could no longer recall the sound of her mother's voice or the exact way in which her father laughed. Her memories were becoming hazy. The only clear images she could now picture were those from her many Muggle and Wizard photographs.  


Hermione suddenly realized that Snape had no pictures in his rooms. She had been in his rooms as Hogwarts regularly during her time in the alternate universe, but could not remember seeing any photographs there either.  


Before she could consider the prudence of her words, she had asked, "Why haven't you put up any pictures of your family?"  


She felt his body stiffen beside her as he replied coldly, "I know what they look like."  


"So, you have a family?" she continued cautiously.  


He cringed slightly, but his voice was impassive as he answered, "Everyone has a family. Mine just happens to be dead."  


Snape breathed out heavily and coaxed, "Hermione. Go back to sleep. You'll need your rest."   


"Why?" She wondered what in the world he had planned.   


He appeared pleased by this change of subject and answered nonchalantly, "It takes a great deal of energy and concentration to perform an advanced spell such as the Killing Curse."   


Hermione's eyes shot open wide, and her body tensed. Killing things on Christmas was not her idea of a pleasant holiday.   


She leaned up on her elbow, dread overtaking her exhaustion, and exclaimed, "Severus, I don't want to learn that."   


His dark eyebrows rose slightly at her forceful response. "I'm surprised at you. I would have thought you'd at least be curious."   


She shivered at the thought. "I'm not interested in using Dark Magic."   


He sighed with disappointment and replied dryly, "It is only knowledge, neither inherently good nor evil. It is how you choose to use it that decides its worth."   


Hermione stared skeptically at him, but his confident expression did not change. She fell back onto the bed, not knowing how to respond. If Snape had meant to soothe her back to sleep, he would have been sorely disappointed as his words had the opposite effect. Though exhausted, a sick, tight feeling now pervaded her body, keeping her awake.   


Snape's arm moved around her waist, his dark eyes watching her as she stared anxiously at the ceiling. Gradually, his hand moved up to her face, running a line down her jawbone.   


"You've never used the Killing Curse on anyone, have you?" She asked earnestly. Months ago, he had confided that he had never been directly responsible for anyone's death, but she needed the reassurance.   


"Not as of yet." He leaned his forehead against her and sighed, "Why are you asking this?"   


Turning the question back to him, she asked, "Why do you want me to learn the Killing Curse?"   


She could feel his heart rate increase, as he took a deep breath. "Progress on my research has been slow, hindered by the fact that I can only perform two tests a day. If both you and Harry can learn the Curse, we should be able to develop a satisfactory potion much sooner." He paused, his face darkening, "and time is of the essence I'm afraid."   


She nodded, and he kissed her reassuringly.   


His reasons were sound, but she was still ambivalent about performing such Dark Magic. She felt Harry would have even more difficulty with the idea than she. Hermione soon realized that she desperately needed to leave, so that she could sort out her thoughts and fears.   


"I need to get back to my room," she whispered hoarsely, pushing back her dread until she was away.  


She crawled out of the bed, and his arm slid off her; yet his eyes followed her to the sofa as she put on her shoes.   


Looking into the fire, she remarked more to herself than to Snape, "I wonder if we can get Dobby to clean the fireplaces. I'd rather not continue using them as they are."   


Snape didn't answer, so she threw some of the silvery powder into the fire and called out, "Hermione's room."   


Soon she was stepping through the blackened mist to her room, overwhelmed by dirt and exhaustion. It was late enough that she knew a nap would be futile. Harry would most likely come to wake her with in the hour.   


Hermione decided a cup of coffee might help bring her out of her daze. She summoned Dobby for the simple task, but he did not respond.   


She fell back onto her bed, unsure if Dobby's absence was due to her lack of concentration while performing the Summoning Spell, or if it was because of something more serious.   


Hermione sighed and rubbed her sore eyes.   


If she needed to be in top form today, she would most certainly fail. Even if she learned Avada Kedavra, she doubted if she would ever be able to use it on anyone, regardless of the situation. She sat up, shaking the grim thoughts from her mind and headed for the bathroom.   


On the way, she peeled off her clothes, leaving them in a disordered heap. As she entered the bathroom, her mind barely registered the cold tile floor. She absently ran the water, ignoring the mirror as it snickered at her worn appearance.   


She slid with a splash into the bath water and laid back, resting her head against the cool porcelain. The warm water enveloped her, relaxing her weary body. The steam and heat clung to her face making her eyelids feel heavy. Before long, she was deep into a dreamless sleep.   


A loud knock on the bedroom door jarred her awake.   


Hermione did not know how long she had been asleep, but when she awoke, the bath water had cooled and her skin was puckered and wrinkled.   


"One moment," she muttered loudly, and she waddled over to the bathroom door, still dripping from her legs and hair and face. Hermione leaned her head against the door frame, eyes closed, as her hand searched blindly for the hook on which her bath robe hung.   


She flung the robe around her and walked to her nightstand to gather some clothes, not wishing Harry to see anything that might hang out of her loosely fitted bathrobe.   


Before her fingers ever touched the handle, the drawer wobbled and whimpered. Hermione's hand jerked away, and she yelped.   


Harry began loudly knocking and calling her name, but Hermione ignored him, focusing her attention on the shaking drawer. She cautiously slid it open, her wand out defensively, to reveal a sobbing Dobby.   


Harry shouted her name once more and pounded heavily on the door.   


"It's all right Harry," she called out.   


Turning her attention back to the pathetic creature lying wrapped in her underthings, she asked, bewildered by the sight, "Dobby, what are you doing?"   


The elf awkwardly pushed himself up so that he was sitting, his legs spread and body shaking, her bra draped over his large bat-like ears. His enormous green eyes glistened with tears as he choked out, "Dobby didn't want to be in the way. Miss was gone, so Dobby hide here."   


The door sounded again, and Harry shouted, "Hermione, if you don't open this door, I'll break it down!"   


She yelled flustered, "I'm coming. Just hold on."   


She turned back to Dobby and in a very soft, dark tone that surprised even herself, she commanded, "Do not mention that my room was empty."   


Dobby became silent and nodded. His whimpering ceased for a moment, as he replied with a tiny squeak, "Dobby is keeping Miss' secret."   


Hermione's body tensed with the awareness of having secrets to keep, but moved quickly to the door, cracking it slightly.   


Harry didn't wait for an invitation, but rather forced his way in, a worried look on his face.   


Hermione tightened her fuzzy robe around her, trying to be modest, when in reality wearing very little. Luckily, Harry did not seem to notice.   


As she double knotted her robe's belt, she glanced down and noticed that Harry was carrying two brightly wrapped packages.   


"What happened? I heard you cry out," Harry exclaimed with concern in his voice, but froze mid-step, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Dobby.   


"Dobby happened," Hermione muttered and went to sit at the bed, turning her eyes on the little elf.   


"So what is wrong?" She asked trying to sound sincere, but feeling rather exasperated.   


"Professor Snape is telling Dobby to stay away or he will pickle Dobby in a jar," and he once again began sobbing violently.   


Hermione could easily picture Snape threatening Dobby in such a manner. Being certain he would never actually pickle Dobby, she found the image of Snape glaring down at the little elf, while holding a specimen jar, somewhat amusing and had to fight back the urge to smile.   


She took in a deep breath, and comforted, "Oh Dobby, I think he just wants to handle the cooking." She lifted her bra off his head. As she did, Hermione watched Harry's face turn a bright shade of red.   


"You've been a wonderful help with the laundry and cleaning," she paused pulling out two mismatched socks from her nightstand. "In fact, I got you something for all your efforts." She had added blinking stars with zig-zag patterns to one sock and leopard spots to the other. Both designs hurt her eyes. Dobby, however, acted as though he had never seen anything so lovely.   


"Oh!" He squeaked, clutching the present against his chest. "Thank you, Miss. You is more great than Dobby thought!"   


"Dobby will go try on his socks now Miss. Thank you," and with that he scampered out the door, his big ears twitching with excitement.   


Hermione sighed and looked up at Harry, who was standing beside the bed. She watched as a wide grin appeared on his face.   


"Happy Christmas," Harry chimed, as he held out two packages. "The larger one is from me. Ron gave me the other one, before holiday break, to give to you."   


Hermione smiled, taking the presents and setting them down next to her. She slid off the bed and knelt on the ground, pulling out a soft package from underneath the bed.   


"Here," she held out the present to Harry. "I had meant to give you your own chess set, but in all the confusion, I forgot to bring your gift along."   


"That's OK. Mione," he said smiling shyly.   


He seemed happy enough with his present, as he pulled the burgundy sweater over his head.   


Hermione beamed warmly at her friend and turned her attention to her gifts.   


Her smile widened as she lifted the cover from its box to reveal a shimmering model of the galaxy. The accuracy of this model would make calculating the stars' movements much easier for astronomy.   


"Oh Harry, thank you!" Hermione exclaimed, holding the large ball in one hand, while her other arm hugged him tightly. "I want to go test it right away!"   


"Open Ron's present first," Harry prodded.   


Hermione hesitantly lifted the lid from the small box. A thin, delicate bracelet was housed inside. Though probably inexpensive, Hermione doubted it was within Ron's meager budget.   


"He spent a long time picking it out."   


"Yes, I'm sure he did," Hermione replied quietly.   


Ron, though sometimes annoying, was missed more than Hermione could express through words; and at that moment, the tightness in her throat prevented her from saying much of anything.   


She was pulled from her thoughts by Harry suggesting, "Let's go to breakfast."   


Hermione glanced up at him sadly and nodded. "I need to change first."   


And as she plodded to the bathroom to dress, a sinking feeling began to creep upon her. Instead of being with her family and celebrating the holidays, she would be working. She was not looking forward to using the Killing Curse. Furthermore, she had yet to give Snape his present. The more she thought of her gift, the less certain she was that it would be appreciated. This was not exactly the Happy Christmas she had anticipated.   


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! It feels wonderful to read feedback.  


I had a very hectic week, so I had to split this chapter in two. I know not much happened in part I, but I promise that there will be more "action" in part II. If I get no reviews for this chapter, I completely understand, as I know there is not much to comment on.   


Even though there will be another sex scene in the next chapter, it will definitely be an R rated version, considering recent rule changes.  


Oh well, I'm going to toddle off now and catch up on the fics I've ignored this week. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	12. Christmas Part II

  
  


Echoes

Chapter 12: Christmas Part II

"Harry, please stop!" Hermione called out to Harry's blurry figure, as the swirling snow created a haze over everything.

Moments before, Harry had stormed out of the house after a fierce argument with Snape. The episode had been short but intense, after Snape had coldly informed Harry that they would all be using _Avada Kedavra. Snape had offered no explanation, feeling that none was necessary. At Hogwarts, Snape's philosophy had always been that students were to do as they were told, without questioning; and given the menacing way in which he commanded his class, few students ever ventured to disobey. Harry, however, was not one to blindly follow orders, especially ones given by Snape._

Vicious names and accusations were exchanged, but neither Snape nor Harry made any effort to listen. By the end, hatred was thick in the room, and Hermione was equally frustrated with both men. 

Harry must have heard her call to him, for he stopped, his back towards her.

As she approached him, the frigid snow blew past her exposed hands and face and bit into her slacks and sweater.

She cautiously reached up and touched his shoulder, pleading, "Please come back inside. You'll freeze out here." 

Harry remained rigid and unmoving, as if he did not hear. Cautiously, Hermione continued, "I'm sure there was good reason behind Snape's behavior."

This time, her statement provoked a response, though not the one she had hoped for.

Harry turned sharply and spat, "Why the hell are you defending him?" 

Harry glared at her, and Hermione was forced to look away in guilt. In the past, she had always argued Snape's innocence, but now she questioned the motivation behind her words.

She heard, but did not watch as Harry argued, "Hermione, he's a former Death Eater. Who knows why he broke away from Voldemort? But I doubt it was because he suddenly had a change of heart. He's obviously still interested in the Dark Arts."

Hermione replied weakly and not very convincingly, "Dumbledore trusts him." She paused and looked at him, "and we should trust Dumbledore."

Harry's face contorted, and his voice shook, "Hermione, I was there when my parents and Cedric died from the Killing Curse. Do you know how hard it is for me to watch it being used on any creature?" His hand clutched his sweater as he cried, "I still have nightmares of their deaths. I can't do it, and having Snape berate me for it doesn't help."

Though his anger had visibly lessened, the emotion was replaced by equally strong feelings of pain, prompting Hermione to hug him. Harry's arms wrapped so tightly around her that, for an instant, she could not breathe.

As Harry held onto her, his shoulders heaved up and down with harsh breaths. The wind whipped past them, yet Hermione felt nothing but concern for her friend. Slowly, his respiration became more regular, and they parted slightly. Although he was more composed, there was still anguish on his face, and Hermione could not be certain if the tears in his eyes were from the wind or emotions, but she suspected they were from a bit of both.

He looked so distraught; Hermione could feel her throat tighten and could no longer look at him. Her eyes diverted to the darkness just beyond his shoulder, and she stood silently shaking from the cold. The wind howled and swirled snow around her feet, yet she remained motionless, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

When she glanced back to Harry, she saw that he had turned toward the cabin, and, with a heavy heart, she began trudging through the snow behind him.

She followed him into the house, careful not to say anything until they were safely inside. They stood in awkward silence within the warmth of the foyer, until at last; Hermione cleared her throat and asked gently, "Do you want to go play chess or something?" 

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I understand what you're trying to do Hermione, but I just want to be alone right now," he pleaded.

Hermione nodded reluctantly.

And, crossing his arms, he left her standing alone, his feet clunking with each heavy step up the stairs.

Her talk with Harry had left her feeling sick and cold, and she would have gladly spent the rest of Christmas hiding under her blankets. However, she knew that Snape would have to be faced eventually; and now, with Harry away, was her best opportunity. 

Her frozen arms and face began to tingle and sting as they warmed, and the sensations combined with her dread, as she walked down the hallway to Snape's rooms. 

She absently rubbed feeling into her arm, as her mind resolved to stay calm and controlled. Hermione knew that both Harry and Snape were stubborn men, yet in this case, both had the best of intentions. The reasons behind Harry's strong reactions had been easy to empathize with, but Snape's cold demeanor was so engrained within his personality that he would be more difficult to understand. 

Standing in front of the door, she hesitated, gathering her courage and rapped quickly. In an instant, the door glided open, and she cautiously entered his rooms, knowing full well the mood in which she would likely find Snape.

With each step down to the laboratory, the temperature dropped. Though the lower level was cooler than the rest of the house, the air still burned her skin, and her mind raced trying to formulate something appropriate with which to begin their conversation.

Hermione did not have to worry about saying anything, as Snape's voice echoed against the stone walls, before she even reached the bottom of the stairs. "I see Potter is still off pouting." 

She took a deep breath realizing that this conversation would indeed be difficult. Gathering as much confidence as she could muster, she flatly stated, "You're being unfair, Severus." She also thought he was being an ass, but refrained from expressing that out loud.

"Am I? How so?" He asked in his most sarcastic tone.

"I never said that your intentions were wrong, but you can't order someone like Harry around. He doesn't trust you, and you're not making it very easy for him to trust you."

Snape huffed at her words, but made no further attempt to argue.

Slowly, Hermione reached out her arm, running her fingers down the side of his black robe. Expressionless eyes looked down at her, and Hermione became very uncertain as to her next move.

After several minutes of strained silence, she calmly made a request. "Please don't push this. I will talk to Harry, but don't expect him to help," Hermione warned.

"But you will help?" He asked, his eyes turning away from her.

"Yes," she simply answered.

Hermione knew his work was truly important, and regardless of her apprehension, she had to help.

He gave a quick, half nod, and a small shiver ran through her. 

Hermione realized that she wanted his recognition and approval as well. Snape was a difficult man to please, and therefore his acknowledgement was significant, but that was not her reason. She knew this need had grown with her affection for him.

With this knowledge, she examined his hard features, hoping to catch a glimpse of emotion, but rather saw him stiffly reach into his robes and place a small box on the work table.

"Here."

Hermione's head shot up in surprise, but their eyes did not meet, as his were quite focused on the scrolls in front of him.

"You got me a Christmas present," she asked incredulously.

"As you see," he replied, shuffling the papers around.

Hermione laughed as she pulled out a small round clock surrounded by a thin golden triangle, whose open side acted as a pendant on a long chain.

"I thought it would keep you from stealing my watch again." There was a hint of playfulness in his words that Hermione had never heard before.

She touched the watch pondering how much little things can mean, and slid it over her head, tucking it under her sweater.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Snape returning their conversation to the matter at hand.

"I've been calculating the survival rate from my latest experiments, and the new potion looks promising," he explained dryly. "Eighty percent of the subjects lived more than five minutes, and thirty percent survived. Though I've only tested the potion on lower species, the results should be similar with humans."

"How is that possible? Your progress has been amazing!" She exclaimed and grabbed the scroll from him, scrutinizing his results with disbelief. In the past few days, his success rate had more than doubled.

"The Antipodean works as a general protectant, which alone does little. However, I've found that it has restorative effects when used in combination with several volatile ingredients."

Excitement became apparent in his voice as Snape continued, "The Aconite and Opaleye work together as a pawn, fooling the Curse. Avada Kedavra activates the ingredients, shutting down all bodily functions the instant before the Killing Curse hits. By doing so, the Spell has nothing to kill. The effect lasts only a fraction of a second; lasting for the duration of the Curse, yet preventing any permanent damage by reactivating the subject's heart soon after."

"So what happens when the potion fails?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Unfortunately, each subject appears to require a different dosage, and I have not as of yet determined how to calculate that properly."

He looked at her earnestly, "And so you see the problem. It would hardly be prudent to use the potion in its current state. In fact, unless we can increase the survival rate to 90% or higher with few side effects, I would not venture to use the potion."

He continued more cautiously, "I believe a few alterations will improve the results significantly, but I will need to gather as much data as possible."

Hermione sighed, "What do you want me to do?"

He strode over to the side table, and Hermione heard metal clanking as he worked with the traps.

When he returned, he set down one of the cages. Hermione watched as a single mouse scurried around.

He gestured at the cage and directed plaintively, "You must focus all your energy at the creature, wishing it dead."

Hermione responded nervously, "I don't think I can hate a little mouse enough to work the Curse."

He waved his hand dismissively at her concern, "You shouldn't use any emotion to perform the Spell. The Curse doesn't respond to hate or passion. Rather, cold, emotionless control is needed. Avada Kedavra, like people, is most dangerous when there are no emotions attached."

He crossed his arms, staring down at her as he explained, "Imagine the creature dead, lying motionless. Visualize your wand reaching out an invisible hand, cracking its neck."

Hermione tried to focus, but her mind was clouded by sleep. In addition, she found that emotional detachment in this situation was more difficult than raw hatred. She could have more easily attached her intense loathing for Voldemort to the mouse, imagining his face in its place. Now though, she had to remain unfeeling, yet wish the mouse dead. Her eyes focused on the furry little creature, which was standing on its hind legs, belly to her. Its watery black eyes and little whiskers twitched as it sniffed curiously, crying innocence to Hermione. Her mind and emotions became so distracted by the poor thing's adorable features that only a splatter of green escaped her wand, dissipating before ever reaching its intended target.

Snape let out an annoyed breath as he chided, "You need to concentrate. It's only a pathetic mouse," and with that his hand went and physically broke the creatures neck, dead.

If Snape had meant to encourage Hermione though his action, he had succeeded in the opposite as a sickness began to creep into her soul. Her feelings were soothed little by Snape's cold response.

"Hermione, regardless if it is by your hand or mine, the rodents are sentenced to death. We need them for the experiment. That is what they are there for."

Throughout the violent scene, Hermione had held her breath in shock, so that as she came to her senses, she gasped for air. When she finally spoke, her words were high-pitched and shaky. "I know. I understand the reality of the situation." She suddenly felt very weak and had to steady herself by leaning against the table. 

Snape's expression changed into something Hermione would almost call concern, as if suddenly realizing his mistake; but before he could speak, she had turned away, muttering, "I need to go back to my room and sleep for a while." She felt his hand gently swipe her long hair as she left.

Though the Spell had been unsuccessful, it had drained what little energy she had, so that her feet dragged on the floor, and each step she ascended out of the laboratory became an exercise in will power. 

When she returned to her room, she absently undressed leaving all but her panties on the floor and quickly threw on a night shirt, ignoring several of the buttons. As her fingers awkwardly closed her shirt, her pendant became entangled in a button hole. Hermione carefully removed the necklace, placing it carefully on her nightstand. As she did so, her thoughts drifted to Snape. 

Tonight, she had witnessed his heartless, cold side that she feared. Hermione had always known Snape had a dark side, and his harsh mannerisms only emphasized this character flaw. However, she had reasoned that the glimpses of warmth and caring he had shown her had been closer to his real self. Now she worried that she had been mistaken, and it scared her. 

She lightly touched the watch, confused by these opposite, but equally intense feelings. Hermione decided that analyzing any of her emotions, while in this weakened state, would be futile, and so she pushed her feelings away. Weakly, she crawled into bed and soon succumbed to her exhaustion.

Sometime in her dream state, a warm, nude body curled up behind her. His long, thin torso fit perfectly against her small frame. She shifted slightly, feeling the hair on his legs brush against her bare thighs, and her eyes opened slightly.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, still groggy from sleep.

"Am I not allowed in your room?" He murmured in feigned surprise.

"It's not that," she answered, her voice slightly hoarse. "I meant, how did you get in?"

Snape's arm came around her waist and slid under her night shirt. His hand spread across her small stomach and pushed her closer to him, allowing her to feel how much he wanted her.

"Do you really think I would allow any room in this house to be inaccessible to me? I made sure that the wards would not affect me." His voice was soft, but dangerous, and Hermione's body tingled with desire at its silky texture.

His hand moved up to caress her breast, as his face buried in her hair.

Hermione moaned softly, and Snape replied, "I'm glad to see I am still welcome in your bed."

"Hmm. I was rather upset," Hermione admitted, not mentioning the worry and confusion that continued to haunt her. Instead, she reasoned, "I was exhausted and emotional from my talk with Harry." She felt compelled to add, "Though breaking that poor creature's neck was not the best way to prove your point."

"Agreed," he breathed out warmly, and his hand moved down, slowly gliding across her sensitive skin to her panties. As his fingers explored, she instinctively arched her back, and he groaned into her hair.

Hermione could feel her mouth go dry as she gasped, and a rapid pulse beat through her body.

She moaned in pleasure, prompting him to move his groin against her.

A moment too soon, his fingers moved away from her, causing a small whimper of protest to escape her lips.

The retreat was only temporary, as he quickly removed her underwear. Hermione arched her back, and he entered her deeply from behind. Bringing his fingers round again, he began rubbing her smoothly and delicately between her thighs.

And soon, they were moving together. Slow long strides at first, building to short, quick thrusts, until they exploded together. Moments later, they intertwined in each others warm, damp bodies, breaths rapidly, taking in air.

They stayed lying against each other for sometime. Snape's fingers twitched against her waist as his hand hung lip over her hip bone. Gradually, Hermione felt Snape's heart rate and respiration return to normal. 

Hermione began to slide away from him, but Snape's arm tightened around her, preventing her from moving very far.

She hesitated, feeling his body around her.

"I have something for you," she whispered.

He allowed her escape from his embrace, and she leaned over across him to retrieve his present from under the bed. As she bent down, his attention focused on her bare backside, and his hands fondled and teased her, sending small sparks of pleasure through her body.

She easily found the package, but paused to allow his attentions to continue. When she finally sat up, handing him the box, he seemed much more interested in eyeing her body, as it peeked through the sloppily buttoned shirt, than at opening his present.

She motioned anxiously to the box, and he reluctantly opened it to reveal two large translucent marbles.

"You gave me paper weights," he said incredulously, raising his dark eyebrows.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "They're stress balls. I thought you could use them. You're always so tense." And she straddled him, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. 

Backing away, she picked up one of the marbles, meaning to place it on his shoulder.

His eyes darkened, and his shoulders tensed as her hand approached his neck. The moment she released her grip, Snape flinched, so that the ball rolled to the bed.

"Hermione, it was a nice gesture, but I think they will suit my needs much better as paper weights."

"They won't bite," Hermione replied, slightly annoyed by his childish fears.

"Biting is the least of my fears," Snape muttered, rubbing his throat.

Obviously, he did not trust her nearly as much as his words this morning had implied.

"Give me your hand," she commanded. "If you think they are awful, the marbles can sit on your desk, and I will not complain. But you must at least try."

She picked up one of the translucent orbs and placed it gently on the back of his hand.

Immediately, the sphere melted into a glob and three extensions molded out, kneading his skin.

Snape watched the sphere's movements suspiciously, but after a few minutes, reluctantly replied, "It is not unpleasant, I suppose." He paused and smiled wickedly, "but I would rather watch," and he kissed her gently, his weight pushing her down on the bed.

As he did so, his hand ran along the inside of her thigh, placing the spheres on her very sensitive area. Hermione gasped as the marbles molded into small hands, teasing her. Snape lifted his head just enough to comfortably stare into her eyes, and he watched her reactions to the spheres' movements.

Without taking his eyes off her, his fingers crept up to her shirt, adeptly undoing the buttons. He smoothly pushed the sides of her night shirt away, his head slowly moving closer to her bare flesh. His mouth teased her breast, licking and nipping in sensual motions.

As his hands moved down to her stomach, Hermione's senses became overwhelmed by the many attentive caresses, and she cried out passionately. Snape engulfed her cry in a deep kiss, which turned into a warm embrace as she drifted off to sleep.

That night, as Hermione slept enfolded in Snape's arms, she experienced the most vivid dream.

_It was sunny and warm, and she was barefoot, running along a shoreline in search of something. She wasn't sure what, but she knew she would find it here. The pale sky and sand reflected the bright sun, forcing her to squint to see. The land was quiet, but for the waves gently splashing against the shore. As she ran, she could feel the soft sand tickle her toes and the gentle breeze play against her face and neck._

_Something fluttered over head, and she looked up to see lovely golden feathers glistening in the sun. The bird soared in a large circle above her, and she knew it was significant. Suddenly, the bird jetted away from the water to a nearby tree line. She followed the large golden bird as it led her away from the beach, through dense trees and foliage, finally perching on a limb deep with in the forest._

_She didn't know why she had followed the creature, but she understood that it was important._

_The bird eyed her suspiciously, and they examined each other in silence. The creature was a question to be answered, a mystery to be solved. Its beak opened wide, and a loud shriek sounded, so fierce that her ears stung. She wanted to cover her head, but her arms would not move. She slowly realized that the sound was not coming from the bird at all, but from somewhere outside, somewhere real._

She was jolted awake by a sharp push, and before she could move, Snape's voice urgently commanded, "Get dressed, now." Her eyes shot open in confusion, and she soon discovered the whole house was screeching loudly.

"What's happened?" Hermione gasped coming to her senses.

She was greeted by her worst fear as Snape replied, rushing to the fireplace, "Someone has breached the perimeter." 


	13. Friends and Enemies

  
By Tegan  


   
Echoes   


Chapter 13: Friends and Enemies   


"Move," Snape harshly commanded throwing her a sweater and slacks. Alarms blaring, mind whirling, Hermione pulled on her clothes and, stumbling out of bed, was immediately pushed barefoot through the fireplace, her slacks hanging loosely unbuttoned. Everything was screaming, rushing, swirling around her much faster than her mind could process, forcing her to act out of instinct rather than cognition. She felt detached, as if she were watching the crisis from a distance. She wanted to wake from this nightmare, but could not, and the black haze combined with the screeching walls and cool cement floor, confirming that she was indeed awake.   


Her vision cleared, but her mind still reeled, as she entered Snape's rooms. Through the blaring siren she felt, rather than heard, something clunk against her feet, causing her to jerk backwards. She quickly steadied herself against the fireplace mantle. As her hand fell back against the hearth, her eyes shot down to the floor to see her shoes.   


Without bending over, she forced her shoes on and glanced up as robes brushed against her. Ignoring her, Snape reached around and, grabbing the small can of Floo Powder from the mantle, tossed it to her, ordering, "Collect Harry, and return here immediately," and he strode towards the back room.   


Hermione nodded numbly as she watched Snape walk away with confidence and control, wishing she felt as he appeared.   


Now, a new fear began to take hold of her, as she thought of Harry. They were all in danger, but he was alone. A need to find him consumed her, giving her courage.  


The lid rattled with Hermione's hands as she lifted it off, and awkwardly grasping the powder, she threw a pinch into the flames, and heard herself cry out, "Harry's room."   


Once again she stepped through the black mist, barely registering anything, as her concern for Harry's safety grew.   


"Harry!" She yelled, her eyes desperately searching his empty room, while she rushed toward the open door.

Harry ran back into the room, confused and jumpy. "Hermione, what's happened?"   


With determination in her voice, she shouted, "Come with me now!"   


As they tore through the flames, her world suddenly became still and quiet, so that she could now only hear their heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire. A shiver tingled along her skin, and she realized that this new silence was far more disconcerting than the blaring sounds of the alarm.   


Hermione nervously looked up and saw Snape striding towards her, teddy bear in hand, his face dark and blank.   


"Is it over?" Hermione asked, knowing full well it wasn't.   


"Hardly," Snape replied coldly, "I only turned off the blasted alarm."   


Before Hermione could ask another question, Snape's wand was drawn as he ordered, "Follow me. We need to be outside to use the portkey," and he rapidly strode past her towards the door, robes billowing out behind him.   


Harry trailed behind Hermione, as she followed Snape closely.  


As Snape opened the door to leave, a thud echoed down the hallway, and he lurched back, shoving her harshly into Harry. He turned and glared menacingly at the pair, daring them to argue.   


"Wait here," he commanded in a low, dark voice, and crept stealthily around the corner into the darkness.   


Hermione left the door slightly ajar and, positioning herself carefully against the wall, stared into the darkened hallway for what felt like an eternity. The silence now rang in her ears, and she held her breath in fear.   


Through the darkness, she heard Snape shout, "Expelliarmus!" And a loud crash exploded down the corridor.   


The end to a low moan brought silence once more. Hermione could stand no more and decided to act. She had just widened the crack enough to slide through, when a furious Snape burst in, slamming the door so that tremors rippled across the floor and walls, rattling the piles on his desk. Snape's knuckles were white with tension, and his face hard with anger.   


He pointed his long finger accusingly at Harry. "You," he sneered through his teeth. "You and your bloody friends!" Snape shouted, enraged.   


His rigid control disappeared for a moment, as he lifted a small table off the floor, toppling it over, sending glass flying and crashing against the floor and walls.   


Hermione stood frozen in shock at Snape's wild behavior. She had only ever witnessed him so out of control once before, at the Shrieking Shack, when he had confronted....   


"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed.   


Hermione looked over to see a bloody Sirius Black propped up uncomfortably against the door frame. His left eye was swollen, dark blue, and there was blood streaming down his chin from a deep cut on his lip. He touched his mouth gingerly as his eyes moved to Harry.   


Though battered and bruised, Sirius smiled widely ignoring Snape as he limped over to Harry and embraced him in a fatherly hug.   


Unimpressed by their joyful reunion, Snape spat, "Get out of my sight!"   


Snape's eyes jetted from Sirius to Harry to Hermione and back again, spreading his anger evenly.   


Though Hermione was reluctant to leave, she saw no other option and stepped into the hallway feeling a bit like a traitor.   


Closing the door, Hermione started as another crash emanated from his rooms.   


Though Hermione's mind was still back with Snape, Sirius and Harry were now focused on each others company. As they strode down the hallway, Sirius limped in large bursts, filling the house with his laughter. Hermione watched as another boisterous roar provoked him to slap Harry affectionately on the shoulder.   


By the time they had reached the library, the air was light and cheerful, not at all like the frightening experience of moments before, nor was it the tense environment of the past few days. This sudden change in mood was surreal, and it made Hermione feel unbalanced.   


Hermione chose an inconspicuous chair in the corner and sat, silently watching Black with suspicion, as he sat down with a thump. Stacks of books surrounded her, but she was much more interested in Sirius' reason for arriving as he did.   


She stared in silent amazement and outrage as Sirius broke out in cheer, "Did you see the look on Snape's face?" He slapped his good knee for effect and continued gleefully, "It was brilliant, almost worth being thrown across the room," and he fell back with ease, sprawling out in his cushy chair.   


Harry moved to the edge of his seat with excitement and blurted out, "So what's been happening? Is everyone all right? How are Dumbledore and Professor Lupin?"   


The questions flew quickly, until Sirius held his hands up in mock distress.   


Pushing aside her concerns for the moment, Hermione listened, eager to hear the latest news.   


For a moment, Sirius' animated features became solemn. He hesitated, clearing his throat and began slowly, "I won't lie and say everything is fine, but there haven't been any more attacks. I met with Dumbledore yesterday, and he is as strong as ever."   


Hermione sighed a breath of relief, reasoning that Dumbledore must have sent Sirius, though she pondered how odd the situation had played out. Why hadn't they been warned of his arrival?   


As if on cue, Harry asked curiously, "Why didn't you let us know you were coming?"   


Sirius shuffled guiltily in his chair, answering coyly, "Well," he paused to smile mischievously, "I'm not technically suppose to be here, but I couldn't let my only godson spend Christmas alone."   


Hermione had held her tongue reasoning that there must have been some miscommunication, and that Sirius had arrived under specific orders from Dumbledore. Now however, having heard his playful admission, she became infuriated.   


Shooting up from her chair, she stood glaring down at him. "You scared us half-to-death. You could have been killed, sneaking in like you did." Her hand swung around to emphasize her point. "We thought the house was under attack. Did you ever once stop and think of the consequences to your actions?"   


Sirius looked like a scolded dog as he replied, "I knew coming to see Harry would be worth the risk."   


Hermione was about to snap back, but was stopped short by Harry sending her a pleading look, which begged for silence.   


Grudgingly, Hermione returned to her seat. Snape could be harsh and cold, but he would never be so reckless as to endanger anyone's life. Though he thought little of small animals, he was caring and gentle with her. The episode with the mouse yesterday exemplified Snape's lack of tact and charisma, however, the moment he had realized his mistake, his demeanor changed, became softer. For all Sirius' charm, Snape possessed those qualities that Hermione found most important.   


Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as a small present waved in front of her face.   


Sirius asked lightly, "Cracker?"   


Hermione looked up, realizing how little her words had affected him. To his credit, Sirius seemed to have a knack for recovering from any situation. As her hand reached to the red paper tube, her eyes watched him carefully. Every part of his body was alive and animated. His smiles jumped easily to his expressive eyes, and his long hair, now pulled back into a loose ponytail, leapt and swung with his animated movements. He was so very different from the man he had been after escaping from Azkaban. He was as different from that man as he was from Snape.  


Hermione cautiously pulled on the holiday tube, fully aware that Sirius was inclined to play jokes. Though the prize did not immediately explode, it was very silly indeed, as she read Wally's Instant Wart Kit.   


She heard a crack and looked over to see that a package of gobstones had spilled out onto Harry's lap. Hermione cringed, not wishing to participate in any game that could spray her with the most vile fluid.   


Before she even had time to reply, Sirius was gallantly tossing her and Harry two brightly colored packages.   


Hers was a small rectangular box, covered in stars and bells, but Harry's was larger, causing Hermione to wonder how she hadn't noticed the box before. She quickly decided that he must have enlarged it while she was focused on her cracker.  


Turning her attention to the Christmas present, Hermione thought back to the watch on her nightstand and smiled. Slowly tearing open the bright wrapping, she found that her box contained a small wizard camera.   


Images of Harry and Snape at each others throats, while she snapped pictures, ran through her mind, and she grinned, lost in her thoughts. It was strange how even through such lively distractions, her thoughts kept returning to Snape.   


As she inspected the camera, Sirius said, "It's to keep a record of my favorite people while we're apart."   


A gasp caught her attention, and she looked over to see Harry pull a piece of long silvery fabric from his box. He quickly exclaimed, "You found my dad's Invisibility Cloak!"   


"I thought you'd be wanting it back," Sirius smiled down at Harry.   


Harry beamed with gratitude, and ran the cloth between his fingers.   


And so, the reunion continued. Sirius strode the length of the room filling the air with his laughter, spreading his energy.  


Sirius' lack of concern for his poor judgment shocked Hermione. Though Harry was happier now than he had been for some time, Hermione could not join in their merriment, and her mind drifted.   


Whatever she thought of Sirius' actions, he definitely loved Harry, and she suddenly longed for the company of her own family.  


At least she still had a family waiting for her. Harry had never really known his parents, and Snape had suggested that he had cared little for his before their deaths. Neither man had a true family, and for once, Hermione felt very fortunate that her situation was not worse.  


A boisterous laugh interrupted her thoughts as she caught the end of Sirius' wild tale. "It was almost as bad as the time we snuck a dungbomb into his book bag!" He roared with laughter.   


Knowing that she was neither in the place nor with the man she truly wanted, Hermione excused herself and made her way up the stairs to her room. The moment she had locked and warded her door, she tossed some Floo Powder into the fire place and asked uncertainly, "May I come over?"   


Hermione stared expectantly into the fire, seeing nothing but flames. After a short pause, that felt longer, Snape's voice echoed back, "Do as you wish."   


Taking a deep breath, she stepped through and once again was standing in Snape's rooms. Though nervous, she was not nearly as stunned or afraid as she had been earlier, when he had pushed her through. She brushed the soot away from her face and hair and, sitting down, looked over to see Snape standing by his desk, intensely focused on a small mirror.   


"It seems the headmaster is not answering my call," he said dryly, not looking at her.   


Absently, he laid the mirror on top of a pile of papers, and came towards the sofa.   


"Why are you here?" He asked coldly.   


Hermione paused for a moment formulating her response. She was sure he would scoff if she admitted her concern or affection, so she settled on, "Sirius and Harry needed some time alone to catch up."   


Snape growled, "That arrogant fool has no idea of the danger he has put us in by visiting." He paused flopping onto the soft cushions, "but why would anyone so self-involved even bother to consider consequences?"   


Hermione listened silently, not knowing what to say.  


"His stunt almost caused me to completely destroy all of our work. I was just barely able to stop the timer on my Self-Destruct Spell."   


He moved to the edge of the sofa, resting his elbows on top of his spread knees, as he stared down at his clasped hands.   


Hermione longed to touch him, but wary of his reaction, she remained still. He continued, "Dumbledore never listens to reason when it concerns his precious Gryffindors. He may be convinced of Black's innocence, but I am not."   


He breathed out heavily, adding, "Black may be able to play it off as a joke, but I have no doubt that he meant for me to die, or at the very least to become infected when he sent me to face that werewolf." He sighed and rested his head in his hands.   


He tilted his head to her and implored, "Do you see?"   


"Yes." This time, she ventured to lightly touch his arm. "I agree that his behavior today was appalling. I'm sure Harry would see it as well, if he weren't so thankful to have someone who cares around."   


Snape muttered sarcastically, "Poor Potter, not satisfied with the whole world's love."   


Hermione looked earnestly into his eyes and said, "No Severus, on this you are wrong. The Dursleys treat him horribly."   


Snape huffed, "I'm sure no more than he deserves. He is always breaking the rules without thinking of the consequences, just like Black."   


"He's not like Black. Harry would never be so thoughtless as to play a dangerous practical joke. The only person he endangers is himself."   


"And anyone around him," he quickly interjected. Snape gazed deeply into her eyes and simply stated, "I would not wish to see you hurt."   


Hermione's heart quickened and her breath quivered as she watched his hand move to hers. Instantly, and the moment before they touched, he jerked back as Dumbledore's voice suddenly called out from the corner of the room.   


"Stay here," Snape murmured in a low voice that was almost a whisper.   


Hermione sat frozen, fearful that Dumbledore would sense her strong emotions through the mirror, as she heard Snape walk to his desk and pick it up. In his most dangerous voice, Snape began, "Headmaster, it seems we have a visitor."   


Hermione stared into the fire as it danced and played in front of her, while the two men conversed in the background. She could sense that though controlled, Snape was still very angry from his earlier encounter with Black.   


"Ah, I see Sirius has decided to join you for a few days, regardless of my instructions."   


"So you did not send him?" He asked in a voice that would have made a lesser man stammer with fear.   


Dumbledore however, directly answered, "No, I most certainly did not."   


Hermione's breath caught in her throat, as she anxiously waited for his reaction.  


After a tense pause, Snape darkly replied, "I see. And you intend to do nothing about it?"  


The old man's voice became lighter, as he asked, "What exactly would you like me to do Severus?"   


"To begin with, you could get him the hell away from here. My work is sensitive, and there are far too many people here already."   


She heard a sigh, and Dumbledore answer, "Severus, please be patient. He's there now, and I'm sure his presence is good for Harry."   


Hermione could feel his frustration, as he sneered, "I want it noted that I do not agree with this decision."  


"It is duly noted. Now then, is there anything else that needs immediate discussion."  


Hermione heard Snape grumble a sharp, "No," and the men said their goodbyes.  


A moment after the room went quiet, Hermione moved, leaning her chest against the sofa back, and watched as Snape placed the mirror deeply within the wall. His arm fell, up to his elbow, into the apparently solid wood. When his hand reappeared, the mirror was gone.  


Without looking at her Snape said, "We need to resume our research."  


Hermione stood up and replied, "I should probably go back around if I'm to help you in the laboratory for an extended period of time. Would you like me to bring some breakfast along?"   


Snape nodded wearily and turned to watch her leave. Though Hermione did not see as she stepped into the fire, his eyes softened with gratitude, betraying his feelings for her.   


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

** I used the idea of holiday crackers from POA. I did some research, but was really only able to find the American version of British crackers, which explained them as being little paper tubes that crack open when two people pull at either end of the tube. I hope I did the tradition justice.  


** Thank you Severely Snaped and cosmoballerina(I love you two!), LoPotter, Morghaine(I hope you get your website running soon, so that all your wonderful NC-17's will have a home), Squirrel, Beth Ann, enlightenedkitty, Hermione Malfoy, Molly of Ozz, iceheart-04, and Kylee.  


**Nicolette- I don't want to make Snape sappy, though very soon he will be expressing his thoughts and feelings more to Hermione.  


**littlemandyralph- I really want to add more Dobby. He's such a fun character to write. (Soon, I hope)  


**Fleab- I think Snape would think very little of harming mice, but this should not reflect on the way he views human life. I don't think he enjoyed killing the mouse, in fact, I don't think he thought much about it at all.  


**Alia- You're right that most people would have talked their feelings out in more detail, but for better or worse, I've written Hermione and Snape as very private, closed people. I want to start making them open up to each other more, and plan to build on the incident in Chapter 12 in the near future.  


**Veresna Ussep- I think you are right about Hermione. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	14. Of Mice and Men

  
By Tegan  


   
  


   


Chapter 14: Of Mice and Men 

Hermione used one of the plates of food, that she was bringing to Snape for breakfast, to tap lightly on the door to his rooms. A tingle of excitement ran through her as the door gently swung open. After the stressful events of the morning, she had finally had the chance to relax in the bath, and she felt much better for it. On her way from her rooms, she had been careful to stop by the library, to make Sirius and Harry aware that she would be in the lab working. 

Hermione stepped through the doorway and approached Snape, as he sat working through figures at his desk. The smell of ham and eggs entered the room with her. 

"So, what horrible things are we going to be doing today?" Hermione asked facetiously as she set the plates down on his desk. 

Turning towards her, Snape raised his eyebrows, as his hand moved to rest upon her hipbone. Hermione could sense a slight smile behind his eyes as she gazed down at him. 

"I want to test the potion to see if a different ratio of ingredients will result in fewer dosage problems."

  


They had been trying to develop a potion that would be resistant to the Killing Curse. Though their results had been promising, they had yet to create a mixture that would be effective in every instance.  


Hermione knew he meant to experiment with Aconite and Opaleye, which were rare but potent substances. Vary the ratio, and the subject wouldn't need to worry about Avada Kedavra, having gone into cardiac arrest. Realizing the difficulty in combining the two, Hermione asked skeptically, "Don't the ingredients have to be mixed in equal parts?"

Snape leaned back in his chair and turned to his food as he responded, "Yes, yes, but the Mandrake juice makes the ingredients less volatile."  


Taking a bite, he paused for a moment and continued, "Perhaps you could research different strengthening potions. Look for one that would lessen the long-term effects of the Opaleye."

Hermione nodded in silent contemplation. A potion using Forcyrup Powder or Julipeye Bark might work, but she wasn't sure how the substances would react to the Aconite. Potion making was an extremely complicated and subtle science, and though more adept at brewing than most, she would need to research and check her ideas thoroughly. Her thoughts were interrupted by Snape confessing, "I must say, I am cautiously optimistic about this new serum."

A small grin appeared on Hermione's face at the thought of him ever being optimistic. She added, "Another advantage is that Harry will be out of your way for awhile, keeping himself busy with Sirius." As she watched him, she realized her words had a decidedly unpleasant effect. 

He cringed and turned away from her, picking absently at his food. After a short pause he replied sarcastically, "And all I must do is remain locked away in my rooms." He sighed, his expression softening, as he added, "I suppose it is a small price to pay for my sanity."  


Sirius was obviously a subject to be avoided. Sensing that a small distraction was needed, Hermione snuck a piece of toast from his plate and casually leaned against the desk, smiling down at him. She noticed that the tension that has so pervaded his body just moments before, had now disappeared. His dark eyes stared back at her, glistening with affection, and a wave of emotions radiated through her body. 

Hermione breathed out heavily and looked away, taking control of her feelings. She wasn't sure if his lovely, deep eyes had gotten the better of her, or if her bath had been particularly soothing, but she felt vibrant and at ease, even if somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she would eventually have to perform the Killing Curse. 

After a short debate over his last piece of toast, Hermione ventured, "May I ask you a question?"

He set down his fork and, looking up at her, said, "It seems you already have."

Hermione playfully hit his arm, but her voice became serious when she asked, "Before you cast Avada Kedavra, what do you see when you look at the mouse?"

He chose to misunderstand her by replying, "I see a mouse. What did you think?"

She pulled up a chair and flopped down, sighing, "That's not what I meant. Do you think of it as living?"

He pushed his plate away, contemplating his response. "Yes, but not as an individual. It's just a mouse, Hermione; something to be preyed upon by owls and other animals. Why should I have any qualms about killing one?"

Hermione shot up from her chair and began pacing, "You're right. I know you are. I eat meat everyday and never think twice about the creature my dinner used to be, but then again, I've never had to take an axe to its neck either."

He stood up and approached her, gazing into her eyes. Brushing her hair lightly from her face, he kissed her gently on the lips. 

Snape smiled down at her, shaking his head. "You are making far too much fuss over this."

She looked away feeling her face become warm, "Don't laugh at me, Severus. I just don't want to fail again."

He leaned his forehead against hers and assured, "I'm not laughing, and you won't. The Spell won't be difficult if you focus."

He moved back to his desk to gather the scrolls and asked, "So, are you willing to practice the Killing Curse?"

Hermione sighed, "I'm not exactly excited, but I think I'm more prepared today."

Snape nodded silently and headed towards the laboratory. 

As Hermione watched him descend the stairs, she felt a tightening develop in her stomach. Pushing back her fears, she followed, determined to remain focused and detached. 

Hermione rationalized that she had eaten her share of meat without ever having thought about the animals her food had been. If she could now use that same detachment, she might be successful. Her strategy would work if she thought of the mouse, not as a living creature, but as a means to an end. Rather than becoming distracted by the rodent's features, she would concentrate on one specific area. 

Another mouse was set in front of her, but she did not notice it, instead watching only the cage, the mouse a blurry background distraction. 

Without analyzing, just acting, Hermione moved her eyes to the creature's neck, wishing it broken, dead. As she commanded the words, a bright green light jetted out from her wand. In an instant, the mouse laid dead, and Hermione felt empty and drained. 

"Well done," Snape's voice called out from behind. 

Though her ears were filled with his silky voice and smooth words, she could not quite manage a smile. 

He moved closer and put his arms around her waist. Leaning down to kiss her neck, he murmured, "I knew you were not completely hopeless."

Hermione elbowed him in the stomach, but smiled weakly, understanding the meaning behind his words. With less effort than she knew was necessary, she tried to push away, his arms tightening around her. Relenting, she relaxed against him and asked in exasperation, "Must you twist every compliment into an insult?"

He laughed, "Hermione, you do know I find you exceptional?"

This time, Hermione's smile widened, causing Snape to release her from his embrace. Once again, he became focused on their work, though Hermione sensed that it was merely a cover for his discomfort at expressing emotions. 

Walking over to the cage, he opened it. With a wave of his wand, the dead mouse disappeared. 

Without looking at her, he said dryly, "It would be best if you practiced one more time, before participating in the experiment."

His eyes met Hermione's as her face darkened. 

"Not now," he assured. "Such strong Dark Magic is very draining. Later. Perhaps tomorrow."

Having performed the thing she dreaded most, the rest of the day progressed quickly. Before she had realized it, they had worked well past dinner, and Hermione's stomach began to growl and churn and ache for food. 

Tossing her book aside, she announced, "I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

"You go," Snape muttered as he scribbled some numbers onto a scroll. 

Hermione watched him carefully, understanding his reluctance, but wishing to persuade, "You can't honestly expect to stay hidden in here until Sirius leaves can you?"

He pushed the papers away and answered with a quick retort, "And why not? It's much more comfortable in here than anywhere else in this house at present."

"You'll starve," she simply replied. 

He waved his hand dismissively, "Well, come back with something then."

Hermione rolled her eyes. His stubbornness would likely make any of her attempts at persuasion futile. 

She collected the plates from breakfast, noting that Dobby had not been in to clean, and moved towards the door. 

And soon, she found herself scouring through the kitchen cabinets for something simple to make. She started slightly as a tiny hand tugged on her sweater from behind. 

"What is Miss be needing? Dobby can help," a little voice squeaked near her knees. 

Hermione turned around, reluctant to have Dobby help with anything. 

She replied hesitantly, "No thank you Dobby. I'm just ...."

"Dobby can do that," he interrupted excitedly and, in an instant, a veritable feast was presented before her. The steaming beef and potatoes looked nothing like the disgusting mess Dobby had conjured up when they had first arrived. 

Hermione smiled down at the little elf. She was pleased to realize he was beginning to regain his bearings after the trauma and guilt of losing his friends. 

"Oh, Dobby. It looks wonderful," Hermione praised. 

Their conversation was interrupted by Sirius as he entered the room with a swoosh and a smile. 

"Hello there beautiful! What are you doing?" Sirius asked leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen counter.

This was not the man she wished to be near at the moment, and she began strategizing how best to cut their conversation short.

Even before she had time to respond, Dobby was bouncing up and down with excitement, his little head bobbing in and out of Hermione's field of vision.

Though most house-elves preferred to be felt rather than seen, Dobby was making his presence quite obvious.

Sirius had just lowered his eyes, grinning oddly at the elf, when Hermione replied nervously, "I'm just on my way back to the lab."

Luckily, Sirius did not seem to notice, distracted by Dobby's strange behavior. He blew out a, "Pfft," cajoling, "Take a break. Come join us in a game of Backgammon."

Hermione shifted, awkwardly holding the plates. "I can't. The experiments I'm working on are quite important."

"And are nothing that can't wait an hour or two," Sirius interjected. 

That he could so easily dismiss her statement irritated Hermione to the point that she pointedly replied, "Actually they can't." She paused, "Unless of course, Dobby would like to take Professor Snape his dinner?"

Hermione knew the effect her words would have as Dobby quivered, "D-D-Dobby is not allowed near Professor. Noooo."

Hermione held back a smile, until Sirius responded harshly, "So he has you fetching for him now."

"Not at all," she answered looking him in the eyes. "I was hungry, and it's as little work to return with two plates as it is with one."

Sirius huffed, "Yes, well don't let Snape take advantage of you. He's a conniving git. I wouldn't put anything past him."

Hermione stared speechless, not knowing what had affected her more; Sirius' verbal abuse of a man she cared about and truly liked, or the fact that Snape would be seen as taking advantage of her if their current relationship ever became known.

She was saved from having to respond by Dobby crashing into Sirius' leg with a pot of cold soup. As Sirius wadded through the slop, Hermione quietly exited the room, making a mental note to thank Dobby the next time they spoke.

Carrying two steaming plates, she entered Snape's rooms to find him sitting against the far corner of the sofa reading. He looked up from his book as she entered. 

He seemed slightly surprised as he said, "That didn't take long. What did you make?"

Though expecting the worst, Hermione replied casually, "Oh, I didn't make it. Dobby did. It seems he's a bit more himself today."

The muscles on Snape's face tensed as he looked at her suspiciously. 

"Dobby is certainly not going to poison us," and she smiled, handing him the dish. 

She sat down next to him, resting her plate on her lap and commanded, "Eat."

She glanced over, covertly watching as he smelled and examined and picked at the food before finally venturing a bite. 

Hermione chuckled, "You know, Harry eats your cooking in much the same way."

"He's wise not to trust," Snape muttered inspecting the food closely. 

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, "That was probably the first time you called Harry wise."

"And most likely the last," he replied absently, still focused on the plate on his lap.   


As Hermione took a bite of her own food, she asked, "So what are our plans for tomorrow."

"It would be best if you spent some time with," and he sneered, "your friends." He poked the potato with his fork adding dryly, "I can handle things fine on my own."

Hermione nodded silently, disappointment showing on her face. Her response seemed to please Snape as he sat back, relaxing slightly.

Sweeping a stray hair from her face, he said, "I like having you around, Hermione. You must know that." Running his fingers along her jawline, he continued, "I would much prefer if there was no one here, but us."

"That is saying very little, considering your opinion of others here."

Snape withdrew his hand and replied, "I was referring to anyone else."

Hermione wondered if that said more about his fondness for her or his solitude. 

He continued, "Regardless, I hope that once the wretched holidays are over, we will at least be rid of one of our annoying companions."

"You certainly don't like Christmas do you?"

He answered grimly, "Only a little more than I like Black." Hermione calculated his response placed holidays somewhere between death and a plague of boils.

"But you do like the holidays I suppose," he asked raising his eyebrows.

His question prompted Hermione to set her plate aside, bringing her knees protectively to her chest. She sighed, "I used to, but now there is too much to miss. I haven't seen my parents in so long." Laying the side of her head upon her knees, she looked into his eyes and continued, "I wish the holidays could wait until the war is over."

She brought her legs around, so that they curled under her and rested her arm against the sofa back. She studied Snape's face, longing to truly know him. Hermione loved him, yet, she did not understand him. She asked hesitantly, "How long has it been since you last saw your family?"

Snape replied coldly, "Both my parents have been dead for more than a decade, but I hardly miss them."

He breathed out heavily moving his plate to the side table and leaned forward, staring into the fire. "I know it's callous, but my parents were a punishment to be around." He paused contemplating his answer, "My mother was completely disagreeable, but at least I could respect her. Why she ever married my father, I will never know. She certainly never liked him. He was the stupidest man, only interested in his little toys and trinkets." Snape sat back and added quickly, "Though he was more easily ignore than my mother."

Crossing his arms tightly in front of him, he shook his head and continued more harshly, "Holidays were always my mother berating my father and me. I realize that their flaws were by no means unique. Most people are either stupid or cruel or both. I've learned that it is best to avoid spending much time with people in general."

His arms unwrapped, and one hand moved to warmly cover hers, "I would never have expected anyone so pleasant as you to ever be with me."

A lump caught in her throat, so that her only response was to kneel forward and kiss him. All her emotions poured out through this contact as her mouth moved, tasting, touching, exploring.

Time passed and they eventually parted. His hand moved to her face, and he hoarsely forced out, "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. You're presence makes things tolerable."

And as she listened to the emotion and sincerity in his voice, any doubts or fears she still harbored fell away. A rush of emotions flooded into her heart, and she molded into his embrace. 


	15. A Good Idea?

  
By Tegan  


   
Echoes   


Chapter 15:  A Good Idea?  


The scent was subtle at first, sweet, but sickeningly so, like rotting flesh, tickling her nose as it hovered around her.  Crinkling her nose slightly, Hermione quickly cast a Charm to reduce her sense of smell.   


Gradually however, the odor strengthened, so that the vapors clung to her throat, making her mouth taste like soured milk.  As the potion came to a boil, she watched the hazy fumes drift slowly up the stairway.   


Eventually, even her Smell-No-More Charm could not protect her, and her eyes watered and her stomach churned.   


As she watched the putrid mist become thicker, filling the laboratory, Hermione made a mental note to wait on any future night time inspirations. What might seem a brilliant experiment at four in the morning, might also have some distinctly negative aspects, which are more easily considered when fully awake.   


Hermione lifted the watch from around her neck and checked the time. It was still early morning, and she sighed, wishing she had waited before jumping into this experiment. Her vision had become blurred by the vapors, creating a strange illusion that the creatures in the pickle jars, lining the walls, were moving and watching her. The image was disconcerting, and she shuddered, closing her eyes to regain her composure.  


In fact, her vision was not the only thing out of focus. The past few days had been something of a blur for Hermione. She had worked with Snape during the day, had made polite conversation with Harry and Sirius in the evening, and had still found the need for Snape's company at night, as she became more drawn to him with each passing day.   


For Snape's part, he had been content to remain locked in his  rooms, rarely showing himself even to eat. Hermione thought his behavior was a bit extreme, but she understood the reasoning behind his strong reactions.   


Harry on the other hand, was happier than Hermione had ever seen him. Finally, he had a family to spend time with and to love him.   


Watching Harry and Sirius together had filled Hermione with a plethora of mixed emotions.  Though happy for her friend, she was ashamed to find that she also felt somewhat jealous of their time together. Her mind often drifted to her home, and she missed her parents more than she thought possible.   


Hermione was pulled back to reality as the stench worsened.   


Using her sweater to cover her nose and mouth, she cautiously stirred the cauldron, as the vapors rose from its steaming contents. A large bubble slowly gurgled to the surface of the thick pasty mixture, releasing a stronger stench.    


Before she could do anything to contain the smell, Snape's harsh voice echoed against the stone walls.   


"What the hell are you brewing?" He demanded as he descended the stairs.  "I thought a mouse had escaped and died within the walls," he continued, tightening the belt to his bath robe.   


Hermione cleared her throat and tried to compose herself without actually breathing. Her voice sounded strained and nasally as she answered, "It's the Strengthening Salve I've been working on."   


"You've obviously done something wrong," he firmly stated as he approached her, covering his nose with his sleeve, and glared suspiciously into the cauldron.  "I know what Robustus Salve is, and this is not it."   


Arching away from the fumes, he asked with repulsion, "Why does it smell so awful?"   


Snape's face contorted into an odd grimace that reminded Hermione of a strange cartoon character.  


Though she knew it was wrong to take pleasure in his agitation, Hermione was appreciating his sharp edge a bit more than she should have at the moment.   


Hermione looked up innocently at him, hiding a grin behind her sleeve. "I was having trouble sleeping and became inspired.  I've made a few alterations to the potion that should increase its effectiveness."   


Snape looked at her skeptically and, pointing his finger accusingly at the cauldron, sneered, "No one will be willing to rub that vile paste on their body?"   


An image of Snape covered in green salve flashed in Hermione's mind, and she could no longer hold back a laugh; though she soon regretted it, as a large gulp of the putrid air caused her to gag.   


"We can work on the smell later," she coughed out.   


Hermione extinguished the flames from under the cauldron and, knowing his answer, asked, "Will you help me prepare one of the mice for testing?"   


Snape crossed his arms, replying, "It was your idea. I am but an observer."   


Feigning surprise, she teased, "I've helped with your projects many times before."   


There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as he replied dryly, "My idea never would have smelled this wretched," and he moved back, leaning against a lab station.   


Relenting, Hermione scrunched up her nose and cringed, looking down at the putrid mess that, in a moment, she would have to touch. She took a ladle and, glopping the paste into a small porcelain bowl, moved to the cages.  She removed her shirt sleeve from her face and opened up the cage, taking hold of a mouse.   


Trying to hold her breath, she dipped three fingers into the paste, while her other hand firmly grasped the mouse.  The stench was clearly torture for the mouse as well, who was squirming and fighting to be released. Unfortunately, now that her hands were occupied, there was nothing protecting her nose, so that a sickness began to creep upon her until she had an overwhelming urge to vomit.   


Dropping the mouse, which was now coated in the green mess, Hermione quickly rushed upstairs, past a very amused Snape. She made her way into the bathroom in time to taste the sour bile within her mouth. She turned on the faucet to the sink and ran her hand under the cool water, while she leaned down to rest her forehead on the porcelain. The smell was now definitely less noticeable, and she sucked the fresh air into her lungs, trying to calm her stomach.  She rested against the sink, hunched over, breathing, eyes closed for several minutes, until at last she was composed enough to stand up.   


Though most of the salve had rinsed away with the water, clumps still clung to her fingers and under her nails.  The sight of the green paste was enough to re-initiate the queasiness.   


Vigorously scrubbing the slop from her hands, she looked up to see her pale, sickly reflection in the mirror. She splashed some water on her face, hoping to bring some life back into her cheeks.   


As Hermione examined her face, Snape entered the bathroom, positioning himself so that she could see his reflection towering over her shoulder. He was so close that the heat from his body permeated to her, sending tingles down her spine. His endless black eyes stared from behind her, reflecting back at her, boring into her soul.   


"Your mirror is awfully quiet," she hoarsely stated, flicking the water from her fingers.   


"Hmm. I insist on placing all the Charms in my rooms personally.  I've never had a fondness for talking objects. There have never been magical paintings in my rooms either."   


He leaned down and kissed the top of her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist.   


"Ugh."  She wiggled playfully in his arms.  "The stench is clinging to your clothes and hair even more than to mine."   


He leaned down, murmuring, "Suffer."   


Watching her image intertwined with his, moving, smiling, laughing in the mirror, the depth of their relationship felt more real than ever before.  She could see the difference in her appearance.  Her face seemed to brighten, soften, become healthier and more alive as he stood near. His demeanor also altered. The muscles on his face had relaxed, softened and become pleasant.  The couple that stared back at her, was very much in love.   


She smiled, feeling his hands move over her, knowing that had she been looking into the Mirror of Erised, the image would have been much the same.  


Snape's cold fingers moved under her blouse, and she yelped.   


The pair's playfulness was stopped short by a knock on the bedroom door.  A tinge of fear tensed into Hermione's body, as irrational thoughts of Harry sensing their actions through the door ran in her mind.   


Hermione cautiously opened the door to find a concerned Harry on the other side.   


Peering through the opening of the door, searching for something, Harry blurted out, "Yuck!  What happened?  I thought the smell out here was bad."   


Hermione sighed, leaning up against the door. "Yes, I know. I was trying something different, and it got a bit out of hand." Moving back, she muttered, "I'll fix it. Sorry."   


Stepping forward before she could close the door, Harry interrupted, "Wait, Hermione. You'll be done soon, won't you?"  


"Harry, it's still morning."  


"I know, but it's New Years, and Sirius wants to celebrate later. You should come join us." He shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice, "I miss you Mione. You've been spending so much time working, I barely see you anymore." He paused, smiling, "Besides, it's not a celebration without a crowd."   


Smiling wickedly, she added, "In that case, maybe I'll try and get Snape to come out."   


His grin faded, and Harry replied, "Don't try too hard. But you will come, won't you?"   


Nodding, she agreed, "Not until later though. I have quite a mess to deal with here."  


Her response was sufficient for Harry, who lifted his hand in a silent goodbye and turned to leave.  


Closing the door, Hermione tentatively approached Snape whose arms were firmly crossed in protest to the conversation he had just overheard. Though he loomed over her in an oppressive manner, Hermione doubted if his true feelings were as dark as they appeared.  


She smiled up at him and implored, "Come on.  We need to get back to work."   


"I'm not going anywhere near that vile substance," he sneered.   


Not really believing her own words, she answered, "The smell will be much less noticeable after a few minutes."   


"Yes, obviously," Snape replied sarcastically. "Your gagging proved that."   


Snape stood immovable, arms still crossed, glaring down at her, though his eyes glistened as he arched his eyebrows. Determine not to give up completely, Hermione shook her head, realizing that arguing was useless.  


She slowly moved against him, leaning her forehead against his chest, wrapping one arm around his torso, while the other cautiously reached into her pocket. With a flick of her wand, Snape's head was instantly surrounded by a clear fish bowl-like barrier.   


Her actions had clearly surprised him, as confusion spread across his face, before quickly being replaced by a darker, shuttered look. Hermione knew it was a rare thing to catch him off-guard, and so savored the next few moments.  


"What did you just do?" he demanded. His voice was dangerous, but muffled, as he glared down at her daring her to laugh.   


"It's a Bubble-Head Charm.  I thought that with such a prominent nose, you would require something more effective than a simple Spell."   


His body stiffened, and his voice lowered as he warned, "I don't take kindly to being made fun of."   


"I like your nose," and she reached up, running her finger over the glass. This small gesture was enough to cause Snape's shoulders to visibly relax and his fists to unclench.  


He watched her carefully as she turned the wand on herself, and a similar bubble formed around her head, her bushy hair sticking out the bottom.  


Striding past a still disgruntled Snape, Hermione made her way down to the laboratory. As she descended the stairs, she became surrounded by a yellowish haze that filled the room. The vapors clung to her arms and hovered around her helmet like a thick, eerie fog, and Hermione felt as if she had just entered an alien world.  


Behind her, Hermione heard Snape cast a Spell, and the fumes dissipated, sinking and being absorbed into the stone floor, so that she could now clearly see around her.   


Suddenly, the thought of a mouse running loose with poisonous gunk on its fur began to worry her.  


"I hope Crooks doesn't find the mouse and try to eat it."  The concern in her voice reverberated against the bubble back into her ears.   


A small smirk emerged on Snape's lips, as if he would wish otherwise.   


She lightly slapped his arm. "Crooks is a good cat."   


"Hmm.  I don't like the way he watches me."   


"He's just jealous."   


It was true.  When Snape had visited Hermione in her room, the cat sat staring, watching them enviously from the edge of the bed. With Snape's presence, the Crookshanks could no longer sleep atop her chest as he had grown accustomed to, and he was showing his displeasure.  


A slight movement, noticed from the corner of her eye, grabbed Hermione's attention, and she quickly jerked her head towards the sight to catch a glimpse of a little green blob, as it scampered under one of the lab stations at the far end of the room.  


Racing across the room, Hermione pulled her wand, eyeing the floor, ready to strike.   


Suddenly, and in unison, little bursts of blue light shot out around the room as the pair aimed at the moving target.   


Papers flew, glass broke, but the scuttling rodent evaded their attempts at capture.   


The sight was both frustrating and quite ridiculous, and Hermione chuckled, "I think the Robustus Salve has increased the mouse's speed."   


Another zap hit the wall, sending sparks flickering against the stone, but the little creature was still on the loose.   


Hermione could not help but laugh whole heartily as their actions were thwarted again and again. This time, her stomach ached, not from the stench, but from laughter.   


Snape's mouth curled slightly, but was soon replaced with a firm look of determination.  His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened, and soon the mouse was back in its cage. Though slightly worse for wear with its fur spiked up by the gloppy paste, the mouse was now calmly standing on its hind legs, sniffing into the air.  


As Snape secured the lock on the cage, Hermione quietly stated, "You can't hide forever."   


He turned, watching her curiously, not fully understanding her words. She pleadingly looked up at him, "Please come out tonight."   


Snape sighed, as her words took on meaning, "Hermione, it's not as though we could interact in any sort of way."   


"I know, but it would be a comfort to know you're near."   


He paused, thoughtfully watching her. An evil smirk crossed his face as he admitted, "I might grasp some pleasure in annoying Potter, but that would also mean I'd have to spend time around him and," his grin faded as he spat, "Black."   


Thinking it best not to push the issue, she sighed and began the long process of Reparo on each item that was broken, shattered, or damaged by their recent fiasco with the mouse.  


Hermione knew that though Snape might have grumbled and growled, he would also most likely show, if only to have a reason to later complain about forcing him there.  


The rest of the day went by quickly as they worked through breakfast and lunch, the lingering stench staving off their appetites. Much to Hermione's relief, her salve appeared to work as she had hoped, and the mouse, though smelly, seemed otherwise unharmed by Avada Kedavra.   


In fact, most of their recent tests using the Killing Curse hadn't been nearly as awful as Hermione had anticipated.  As often as not, the mice survived the tests unscathed, and working with Snape was well worth the effort.  Though they worked long hours, the atmosphere had become relaxed and easy without Harry around. She loved watching Snape's mind work, and though he was stubborn and arrogant, he did not automatically dismiss her suggestions. To Hermione, their research was now less like work and more like a challenge, a puzzle to be answered.   


Though the new salve seemed to have potential, more testing would be needed.  Hermione realized their main obstacle was that so few tests could be performed a day. Avada Kedavra was a very draining Spell to perform. One person could only cast two or three Spells a day.  With her participation, the research had moved more quickly, but Hermione knew it would be best if she could persuade Harry to help as well. She was reluctant to do so, both from his apprehension to working with the Curse, and from the fact that she and Snape had been increasingly growing closer.   


Eventually, the day turned into evening, and Hermione found it time to join Harry and Sirius.   


Entering the library, Hermione jolted back as a rubber ball zipped past her.  She turned quickly to see a giant black dog leap over a table at the far end of the library, catching the ball in its teeth.   


The dog, with the ball firmly in its mouth, trotted over to Hermione, tail wagging.    


She smiled and patted his back, "Hey, Padfoot."   


The dog lowered his head, dropping the ball by her feet and looked up at her imploringly.   


"I am not touching that slimy thing," Hermione warned. "Go by Harry if you want to play catch."   


In front of her eyes, the panting dog transformed back into a tall man, who flashed her a charming grin.  "Where's your feminine soft-spot for cute, furry animals?  Or have I lost my touch?" He teased.  


"I'd call it a pathetic plea for attention," Harry called out from across the room.   


Hermione watched Sirius as he picked up the ball and began tossing it about. In many ways, she envied his jovial nature.  There was a spirit in Sirius which could not be broken.  He was so alive, and easily spread his energy to anyone around him.   


As he knocked into her while attempting to catch a wayward toss, she also realized that he was well on the way to being very drunk.  The scent of alcohol filled her nose as he wavered slightly, her hands on his upper arms steadying him. He turned his head towards her. The pupils of his reddened eyes were dilated, and his face looked flushed as he grinned a silly boyish smile.   


"How much have you two had to drink?" Hermione cautiously inquired.  


"Enough to have fun, but not so much as not to know better," and he winked at Harry.   


Hermione looked suspiciously over at her friend, who rolled his eyes. "It's New Years Hermione.  Try and have a little fun."   


"Speaking of," and Sirius clapped twice.  In an instant, Dobby appeared through the side wall, hopping up and down, ready to please.   


"A glass for the lovely lady, and another round of champagne for us," he commanded.   


The little elf squeaked, ears twitching with excitement. A pop sounded as a tray with a bottle and three bubbling long stemmed glasses appeared out of thin air.   


Sirius grabbed two of the glasses and handed one to Hermione.   


Raising his drink into the air, he announced, "A toast!"   


"To what?" Hermione asked.   


"To friends and family," Harry chimed in, as he took his glass from the tray.   


Hermione looked over at Harry, and at that moment, could not think of anything she would wish to toast to more.  


"To friends and family," she and Sirius agreed in unison, tapping their glasses together.   


The next hour was spent sitting around the fire, idly chatting, until Sirius, for no apparent reason, shot up and began pacing.  


"Too much energy for his own good," Harry whispered to Hermione.  


After a few minutes of watching him move about the room, Harry asked, "Do you feel like a game of chess?"    


She looked up at Sirius, who had once again found his ball and was tossing it playfully in the air. Sirius had more than a little difficulty sitting through an entire game, and so he rarely played.   


As he seemed occupied for the moment, Hermione nodded her agreement, interested to see if her strategy had improved, though she realized how very unlikely that was.   


She knew that, if Harry hadn't been so poor at chess, she'd have no chance of winning at all.  It wasn't as if Hermione didn't know how to play.  She had watched Harry and Ron enough to know the basic rules, but for much of her life, she had been more of a spectator, absorbing information through books and observation, rather than from actively doing.   


Hermione moved down to find a comfortable seat on the rug, while Harry gathered the chess set and began forcing the pieces onto the board.

  


Playing chess with the set available in the house was an adventure in itself. The pieces did not trust her or Harry and readily argued, or at best offered their advice, which tended to be more confusing than helpful.   


In fact, the silly little pawns were, at that moment, debating as to why each should not be the first to move.   


And so, the game began, if not smoothly or easily, at least relatively quickly. More importantly, Hermione was beginning to feel her competitive nature, which she normally only allowed within the classroom, and she became determined to win.  


Curling her legs around, she used one hand for support, while her other hand moved thoughtfully to her mouth contemplating each move.   


Her knight had just taken one of Harry's bishops when its brother threw down his hat and refused to follow Harry's orders.   


Ignoring the obnoxious piece's fit, Harry looked thoughtfully up at Sirius.  "Do you know any really nasty hexes that work on Wizard Chess pieces?"   


"Oh, yes," Sirius beamed. "Quite a few."   


The squawking bishop suddenly stilled and, meekly picking up his hat, moved across the board without another word.   


Sirius tossed the ball one more time, as he leaned against a chair and looked down at Harry, chuckling, "This talk of hexes reminds me of my last New Years as a student at Hogwarts. Things got a little out of hand."   


Harry's interest instantly switched from the game to Sirius, as he sat back and listened intently.   


Sirius began coolly, "Remus had no family, so James and I stayed on for the holidays. A few nights before New Years Eve, we snuck into Hogsmeade and swiped a bottle of Firewhisky from the Three Broomsticks."  


He glanced at Hermione coyly, "After all, what's a party without a little Firewhisky?"   


He cleared his throat and continued, "House rivalry, especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin, was even more fierce than it is today.  Add to that three very drunk young men, and bad things happen."   


He paused for effect, holding his ball up like a Shakespearean actor about to recite Hamlet.  


"We transfigured the tapestries surrounding the Slytherin Entrance into bright pink Pansies.  And if that wasn't awful enough, we added a little surprise to the flowers."  


He choked out, "Anyone who touched or tried to remove the plants would have to deal with huge boggies spilling from their noses!" His hand gestured a waterfall streaming from his face.  


His animated tale had the desired effect, as Harry laid down on the floor, holding back tears from laughter.  


Sirius grinned, "I have to take most of the credit for that one, though James did come up with the idea of hiding the hex in the flowers."   


"It was brilliant!" He bragged, "Over a half-dozen teachers and students were sent to the Infirmary.  The professors were able to remove the Curse from the flowers the next day, but the Pansies stayed up for almost a week!"   


Flopping down onto a chair, his voice became lower as he added, "Confidentially, I think Dumbledore appreciated our fine taste in decor."   


He sighed, looking thoughtfully at Harry, "It's hard to believe that the three of us made it back to Gryffindor Tower without being caught.  Though invisible, thanks to your father's cloak, we were far from silent."   


Harry was enthralled by his words.  Hermione knew that hearing his father spoken of, as if it were yesterday, gave Harry a connection to his family that had been absent for so many years.   


Realizing that preaching rules to Sirius would have little effect, she couldn't help but mention, "The Curse of the Boggies is an illegal Spell.  You're lucky you weren't caught. You could have been expelled."   


He smiled, replying, "Ah, Hermione. My philosophy has always been, Live for today, for tomorrow may never come!"   


Though his statement was made with a light spirit, there was a truthfulness to it that brought a silence upon the group.   


Feeling a heaviness sink into her heart, Hermione motioned to the chess board, breaking the silence, "It's your turn, Harry."   


This slight distraction was all that Sirius needed to recover, and he began playing with his ball, once again at ease.   


"What this room really needs is color. Don't you agree?" Sirius asked in a forced casual manner.  


Hermione wasn't sure what she was agreeing to, but she nodded absently, examining Harry's latest move.  


In an instant, Sirius had transfigured a large squashy chair into an equally large bouquet of reds and yellows and odd violets and blues.  


Harry looked suspiciously at the flowers and chided, "Reminds me of one of Lockhart's ideas."  


The game was going much better than she had anticipated, though her knight was becoming quite bothersome as he argued his importance to her. Deciding to use the same veiled threat that Harry had made earlier, she opened her mouth, not really hearing Sirius' chatter or Harry's not so subtle hints to hurry, when there was... nothing.  


Hermione's head shot up and a chill ran through her body as a stoic, hard faced Snape entered the room.   


Sirius froze.  Only the ball he had been tossing continued, as it dropped into his raised hand one last time, before a look of repulsion spread across his face.   


Hermione's eyes moved to Snape, whose harsh features seemed even more so, now that she had become accustomed to him in a relaxed environment.   


Snape strode past her, avoiding eye contact and moved to a chair in the corner. Pulling out a book from the wall behind him, he sat rigidly still, silently reading.   


Snape's prediction that Harry would be upset with his presence was confirmed as Hermione watched the young man's face sink with disappointment.   


Sirius, however, soon composed himself. "Yes, well," he uncomfortably burst out, and if anything, became more animated and jovial around Snape.   


Hermione suspected that it was Sirius' way of showing Harry how different his godfather was from his cruel professor, but she also realized that Sirius derived the same sort of warped pleasure from Snape's annoyance, as Snape did from making Harry uncomfortable.  

  


Hermione tried to appear focused on her game, while in reality she was much more interested in the actions of the others around her.   


She listened intently, as Sirius' pacing sped up behind her, and as a page gently turned from the book kitty-corner from her.   


Distracted by these things, Hermione would have surely lost the game, had Harry's concentration not been affected by Snape's entrance as well.  After just a few minutes, she heard Sirius approach them.   


He called out to Harry, "Come my boy. Let's get you another drink."   


Harry and Sirius moved to the champagne bottle at the far end of the room, while Hermione stayed to clean up their unfinished game.  Soon the men were pouring their drinks, and Hermione took the opportunity to move quietly to a nearby chair.   


Though she was not near Snape, she was far from the others, and she ventured a glance in his direction.   


Somehow sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows for an instant before looking back down.   


This smallest recognition by him, sent a shiver of sparks across her skin and elevated her respiration and heart rate significantly. She felt warm and excited, and equally as nervous as she heard Harry and Sirius begin laughing loudly from across the room.  


Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the men were far from focused on anything in particular and were certainly not interested in her at the moment.  


A small grin appeared on her face, as she gathered her courage and walked over to Snape, nonchalantly assessing the books on the shelves behind him.   


"I see you've decided to show," Hermione murmured, picking a thin book out of the stack.   


"Hmph," Snape grunted, not looking up.   


His reaction prompted a wider smile which she hid as she turned her back on the laughing men at the far end of the library and returned to her seat.   


Hermione opened her book and watched the words with out reading. Instead, she focused on listening to Harry and Sirius laugh and joke, while also trying to sense any movements or intentions by Snape. These things occupied her attention so much that she was more than a little surprised when a glass suddenly appeared between herself and her book.    


How she hadn't notice him approach alluded her, but there Sirius stood, offering her another glass of champagne, ignoring Snape entirely.  As she took a sip, she rationalized that avoidance was the best behavior she could hope for from either man.   


Though Snape appeared to be focused on his book, Hermione could sense that his attention was not so firmly set.  Every so often, she could feel his eyes upon her, though, with Sirius and Harry once again nearby, she was far too nervous to look back.   


As midnight neared, Harry and Sirius began singing something about a lass from Bath. What the men lacked in tune, they made up for with volume, as they leaned into one another and belted out their slurred chorus.  


The first chorus was loud and juvenile, but entertaining, and Hermione found herself smiling slightly, as she glanced over at a very annoyed Snape.  


Harry and Sirius' singing evolved into not only song, but dance, as they swayed side to side with each new verse. Gradually, their movements became more of a dance, swinging each other around, laughing at their own antics.  


Sirius separated from Harry long enough to do a little jig, which ended up as a large crash as a misstep landed him into a table, knocking himself and the table onto the ground.  


As Sirius and Harry burst into laughter, Hermione could feel an uneasiness build within her. She had little experience around alcohol, but knew that the men and their actions were quickly becoming more pathetic than amusing.  


Hermione looked over to see Snape's face contorting into an expression of utter disgust. He rose silently, but sharply from his chair, glaring down at Sirius as he sprawled out on the floor.  


Harry reached down to help Sirius, who turned the contact into a full swing, and the two twirled around the room.  


Hermione's attention snapped back to Snape, who was on his way to exiting the room. Her mind focused elsewhere, she did not notice as the singing and swinging approached. In all the confusion, Hermione found herself being grabbed and twirled around.  Before she realized what was happening, Sirius' hand pushed her head forward and their lips firmly made contact.   


It was a hard, wild kiss, one that she would feel for sometime after, yet their was no passion. Sirius was in it for the fun, and Hermione was horror struck by the forcefulness of his actions and by the smell of alcohol on his drool covered lips.  


Instantly, she wiggled away, and grabbing her wand, forced him back with a quick Spell.  As he wobbled and stumbled slightly, another voice rang out, and Sirius was slammed down onto the floor, twitching, as large pussy boils began to grow over his exposed skin.  


As Hermione watched Snape's retreating figure sweep furiously away, she was much more concerned about his reaction the next time she would see him than about Sirius.   


Harry rushed towards his godfather, concern filling his eyes.  


He hesitantly bent down and attempted to touch one of the boils on Sirius' arm. The instant his fingers made contact, the puss exploded from the thin covering of skin, leaving an oozing sore.  


"Don't touch me," Sirius cried out, his body still rigid and twitching.  


Kneeling down, Harry directed his wand at Sirius and commanded, "Finite Incantatum." The boils shrunk to small pimples. Only the open sore remained, as Sirius began to move.   


Propping himself up against the wall, Hermione watched as Sirius' face flushed with anger.  He chided vengefully, "It seems we have broken the dear professor's heart with our kiss."   


His words sent a bolt of fear through Hermione, and her mind raced, trying to find a way to easily play them off.   


"I would hardly think that it would take jealousy to push Snape into hexing you Sirius," Hermione retorted.   


Surprisingly, to her ears, she sounded quite casual.   


Harry, at the moment, seemed as skeptical as Hermione was desperately trying to portray.   


"I don't think Professor Snape could ever fancy anyone," he agreed.   


Sirius blurted out, "Certainly no one would ever fancy him."  


The moment was over, and soon, Harry and Sirius seemingly forgot about any feelings Snape might be harboring for her. Sirius words stayed with her however, and Hermione could feel the tension build. The longer she stayed, the more she felt like a traitor.  She needed to see Snape.   


"I think I've had enough fun for the evening," Hermione said, hoping that her excuse was enough to satisfy both men, and she quickly left before she could find out.   


At first she wanted nothing more than to run to Severus and tell him what Sirius had said, but as she made her way to her room, she rationalized that it would do their situation no good to worry about someone who would soon be gone. Harry seemed unaffected by Sirius' revelation, and Sirius himself would very likely dismiss his thoughts once his mind had cleared. Even if he continued to suspect that Snape felt something towards her, who was Sirius to tell?  Hermione was fairly confident that Dumbledore would listen to Sirius' concerns for Snape about as well as he did Snape's for Sirius.   


As she opened the door to her room, she found Snape sitting on the bed, scowling at the fire, his hand running over Crookshanks' fur. Hermione paused, silently observing the two. He and the cat had obviously found some common ground, jealousy.   


Coming from such noise and commotion, there was a stillness to the room that was unsettling, and she breathed out a sigh that she knew he heard.   


Snape, however, did not acknowledge her, so closing the door, she re-applied the wards before asking, "Severus, what are you doing here?"   


He looked up at her.  The low fire in the hearth was the only light in the room, and it danced and flickered on his face, softening his harsh features.   


"I needed to see you," he murmured, barely audible.  


Standing by the door, watching him, Hermione wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms. However, her rational mind was nervous, and she forced herself to ask, "What if I hadn't been alone?"   


His hands clenched into Crookshanks hair, as he sneered,"Were you planning on inviting Black back with you?"   


With his words, Crookshanks growled, giving her a disapproving glare.   


Hermione sighed, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."   


She approached the bed, pushing the cat aside, so that she could take his place.  Reluctantly, Crookshanks moved back, so that she could be next to Snape, but he stayed near enough to watch and listen.   


She laid her head across Snape's lap, feeling the warmth of his legs and stomach. His fingers moved to gently play with her hair as it fanned out across his legs and knees. Looking up at him, she began, "You didn't need to hex him.  I was handling the situation on my own."   


"Yes, after the bastard grabbed you and molested you in front of me."   


She slowly pushed herself back up, kissing his chest and chin and mouth, before hiding her face in the crook of his neck and murmured into his hair, "I don't want someone like Sirius. I want you."    


"I know," he choked out. "I'm not angry with you. I'm not completely irrational. I do trust you, Hermione."  


Whether it was his words, or the emotion with which he spoke them, at that moment, she needed him to know how she felt.  


Pushing his hair from his shoulder, she whispered, "I love you."   


Though he did not respond with words, his arms around her tightened, pulling her body against his as he embraced her in a deep kiss, so that neither person spoke again for some time.   


  


  


--------------------------------------------- Author's Notes ------------------------------------------------

Thanks to everyone who Read and Reviewed! KBgirl, Squirrel(ack! I can't believe your story is almost done), sk, Morghaine, May Houston, Beth Ann(Look to the Future was wonderful. I'm sad to see it end), Nicolette, deSevera, Aurinia, besnaped, Alia, Shelby, LoPotter, Severely Snaped, Trisha.  


I hope you are still interested in the story. I'm sorry this took a few weeks to update. I was out of town for a week, and then other, unexpected things popped up filling most of my time. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. 

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	16. The Art of Persuasion

Echoes 

Chapter 16: The Art of Persuasion 

Hermione lay immersed in warmth, comfortably oblivious to everything--a state brought on by exhaustion from the previous night's events. Somewhere within her deep sleep, she sensed a slight tickle on her cheek, but she could not move to reach it. Gently, something cold and wet made contact with her warm skin, nudging her to the edge of consciousness. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw, but did not register, whiskers and a nose cautiously sniffing, prodding near her face. 

Instinctively and without any true awareness, she pushed the furry mass away, realizing too late that she had once again jilted Crookshanks, who, taking the hint, leapt from her reach. 

Regret for her actions brought consciousness, so that as she opened her tired eyes, she saw a grumpy cat across the room, glaring at her from on top of the dresser. His coat glowed a deep shade of orange as the light from the low fire gently bathed the room. His enormous furry shadow flickered on the wall behind him to the ceiling above. 

She wanted nothing more than to go to her cat and comfort him, to reassure him that he was still wanted, but a warm body and heavy arm were still draped around her, enveloping her body in warmth and safety. She could feel Snape's even, warm breaths against her neck, and she knew he was yet asleep. 

How long she had been asleep, she did not know, though it felt as if she had only closed her eyes. Her muscles were weak and worn, and her eyes ached as she looked around with half-shut lids. 

Cautiously, she slid her arm towards her night stand to check the time. As her slight movements provoked a response from the body around her, she tensed, froze, realizing that Snape had awoken. 

"What time is it," Snape mumbled sleepily as his arm tightened around her waist. 

"Too early," she murmured as she pushed her body closer to his, hiding her face in her pillow. It was half past five, and given that they hadn't gone to bed until nearly one and weren't asleep until a good while later, the morning had arrived much too soon. Hermione was resolved to sleep a few hours longer. 

A growl sounded in her ear, and she realized that this however was not his plan. 

"Stay," she implored, rolling to face him. 

He paused watching her pleading expression. His eyes and face were soft as his hand moved to her mouth, and he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips before replying, "Once I'm awake, I have no hope of falling back asleep." He sighed, "I'll just become frustrated if I stay here." 

Pulling the covers back, he slid from the bed, and in an instant, she was alone, though the warmth from his body lingered. 

She propped herself up on her elbow and watched him moved about the room, gathering his clothes and silently dressing. 

"Are you going to start the research right away?" 

"Soon. Are you coming?" he asked looking up at her as he kneeled to tie his shoe. 

Hermione hesitated slightly, revealing the sensitive subject she was about to broach, and Snape's face darkened. With a forced casualness, she answered, "Actually, I'm going to see if I can find some time today to speak with Harry alone." 

Snape's body stiffened, and his face tensed as he stood up and towered menacingly above her. "What for?" he asked coldly. 

His height and expression would have made any first year tremble with fear, but Hermione had long since learned to ignore his intimidating manner. She was, however, very aware that she needed his approval if Harry was to work with them again. 

"Sirius will be leaving soon, and we could really use another person for the Avada Kedavra research." The moment the words left her mouth, a sneer formed on his lips, and Hermione regretted bringing up the subject. Snape was not in the best of moods this morning, but the topic needed to be discussed. 

She'd always had difficulty determining how her words and actions would be perceived by others. Over the years, as she watched students and teachers flinch and roll their eyes whenever she raised her hand, she had learned to resist the urge to openly display her knowledge, understanding that she sounded arrogant. Her interpersonal skills were still weak however, and she struggled now as she tried to find the most tactful way to persuade. 

He spat, "Potter has made it quite clear that he cares nothing about working against the Dark Lord if it involves dirtying his hands." 

Remaining calm, she replied, "I think I can get him to agree, but it might take most of the day to convince him." She paused and looked into his eyes, gathering as much softness of expression as possible and continued cautiously, "Severus, if he does come around, will you hold your tongue in front of him?" 

"He will not agree," he simply stated, crossing his arms. Though he had certainly not warmed to the idea, his features were no longer as harsh, and he had not immediately refused to act civil around Harry. 

These slight indications of acceptance gave Hermione the incentive to persist, "If he does agree, will you?" 

A look of disgust contorted onto his face, as if the words he was trying to say tasted awful. In the end, he did not speak at all, but rather nodded sharply. Stiffly picking up his robes, he hung them over his arm and silently turned to leave. 

Hermione let out a sigh of relief that he had agreed, and before her breath was completely out, he had growled the command to his room and, stepping into the fire, was gone. 

Though pleased with the outcome, Hermione was a bit surprised that he had not argued more. Severus was a stubborn man, and as being such, did not always listen to reason. But this time, he had, and she smiled to herself with the thought that his willingness, however grudgingly incurred, could probably be attributed to her. 

She sighed and looked over to the dresser where a disgruntled Crookshanks still sat, his bushy tail flicking back and forth. His yellow eyes stared unblinking, and his squashed face scowled at her. 

Hermione wrapped the bed sheet around her and sat up, calling, "Come here old boy," but the cat held his ground and remained unmoving. 

Tentatively, she approached him, the sheet twisted around her body as it pulled from the bed like a sail. The closer she came, the more Crookshanks backed away, until finally he could go no farther, and so leapt swiftly from her reach, scrambling under the bed. 

Exasperated, Hermione let the sheet fall to the ground, and trudged to the bathroom to wrap her fuzzy robe around her, before attempting another approach. 

Padding back to the bed, Hermione secured the rope tightly around her waist. She crouched down to peer under and focused her attention on making amends. In the dim light of the room, it was difficult to see anything under the bed, but she could make out Crookshanks's scrunched silhouette. He was obviously uncomfortable, as he barely fit. 

"I'm sorry I've been ignoring you, Crooks. I love you too," Hermione apologized gently. 

The cat responded by backing away, his fur scratching against the bottom of the mattress. 

Sitting up, rubbing her sore eyes, Hermione realized that she needed to re-evaluate her strategy. Mere words were not working. As she contemplated her next move, an old saying about a direct link between a man's heart and stomach popped into her mind, and she grinned at the absurdity of the archaic belief. In this instance, however, it might apply. Food, particularly something really smelly, might lure the cat near her. 

She summoned Dobby, and in an instant, a small pop sounded behind her. 

Turning her body to look into his huge green eyes, which began to brighten and twinkle as she asked wearily, "Dobby would you bring me some tuna?" 

Bouncing on his brightly stocking feet, he squeaked, "Oh, yes Miss!" 

It still amazed Hermione how alive and animated house-elves became at the simplest request. 

Another pop brought a small dish filled with the pink fish pieces, which he presented to her, holding the smelly chunks under her nose. She flinched back, away from the tuna, but accepted his offering gratefully. 

Crouching back down, her head against the floor to look under the bed, she waved a small piece just shy of the edge of the bed. 

"Come on old boy. It's all right. I have something for you," she coaxed softly. 

His shadowed figure stirred slightly, sniffing into the air, waiting, watching her suspiciously. It was not until she set the chunk on the floor, under the cover of the bed, that he moved. 

Backing up, she held a second piece out, and after finishing the first bit, Crookshanks grudgingly approached her. 

Using one hand to scoop up the large cat, she moved to the bed. Placing him on top of her lap, she broke the tuna into smaller pieces, scruffing his neck while he ate. 

Within a few minutes, Crookshanks was comfortable enough to curl up on her lap and to begin cleaning himself from breakfast. Though he gave the appearance of ignoring her, he stayed there with her, near her. 

The warmth his body produced and his gentle movements soothed Hermione, so that her exhaustion crept up on her once more. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep the morning away. She ran her hand down the cat's fur and asked gently, "Would you like to take a nap, Crooks?" 

The cat did not respond. Taking his unresponsiveness as agreement, she asked Dobby, "Will you come back in a few hours and make sure I'm awake?" 

"Dobby will remember, Miss," he clapped with excitement at his new responsibility, and with a final pop, he disappeared into the floor. 

Slipping under the covers, Hermione laid still, listening to her breathing, as Crookshanks cautiously crawled on top of her chest, turning circles to find a comfortable spot. He rested his chin on her collarbone and knitted slowly into her bathrobe. His slow, rhythmic purring and soft weight eased her into a deep sleep. 

If waking the first time had been difficult, it was nothing to the reluctance she felt as Dobby's thin fingers wrapped around her arm, shaking her. Worst was his high-pitched voice, which was reminiscent of fingernails down a chalkboard that screeched out, "Miss, please Miss, you is to get up now." 

Slowly, she roused from her deep, dreamless sleep. With her eyes still closed, she took in a conscious breath and managed to hoarsely groan, "Coffee." 

The aroma floating warmly to her nose, helped ease her grogginess, and Hermione opened her eyes and pushed herself up against the headboard. Crookshanks reluctantly rolled off her chest and repositioned himself quietly onto her lap. 

"You is not getting enough sleep, Miss," Dobby said, handing her the steaming cup. 

The coffee felt better in her mouth than it tasted. Its warmth cleared her mind, and she wondered if there was more to his words than just concern. 

Placing the cup onto the night stand, she ran her hands soothingly along her cat's back and looked up at Dobby. 

"What exactly do you know Dobby?" 

"Dobby knows you is having secrets. Oh, Dobby knows all sorts of things, Miss. That you is being with the Professor, Sir." His big ears twitched, and he whispered, "But Dobby is keeping secrets for Miss and Pr-Pr-Professor, Sir," and he shook slightly. 

Hermione could sense his fear and though she knew that it was best for Dobby to avoid Snape, she felt that it was highly unlikely that Snape would ever act on his threats. 

"You know he would never actually hurt you," Hermione comforted. 

Dobby cowered back in fear. "Dobby is not sure. Professor would never hurt Miss, but Dobby is not Miss. Professor, Sir says to stay away or else Dobby will be pickled," and he quivered. 

Hermione shivered slightly as well, remembering the blank, staring eyes of the creatures within the pickle jars. Though she sympathized with him, she couldn't help thinking what odd creatures house-elves were. Dobby was certainly frightened of Snape, but he never showed any animosity or malevolence towards him, and he had in fact, helped her keep their relationship a secret. Years ago, she would have attributed his behavior to the oppression he suffered, but Dobby had been freed. He was more independent than any other house-elf Hermione had ever met. 

Giving Dobby a gentle look, Hermione smiled, "You're a good elf, Dobby. Thank you." 

All of Dobby's fears seemed to suddenly melt away and he beamed with pride. "Thank you, Miss. If you be needing anything else, you let Dobby know," and with that, he disappeared once more into the floorboards. 

Checking the time, Hermione realized that it was still quite early, and she should eat before her inevitable talk with Harry. 

Stripping down to nothing, Hermione walked to the dresser and threw on a sweater and slacks. As she dressed, her mind drifted to the previous night, and an unsettled state--one of doubt and restlessness--came upon her. The feeling was not pleasant, but it was one that could as easily bloom into happiness as not. She began to worry about confessing her love so soon to Severus. He had not chided her for it, but he also did not reply accordingly; not that she would have expected him to. He was a closed, private person, so that his emotions were not easily expressed. 

If her confession had been an error however, how would it affect their relationship? With these questions consuming her consciousness, she opened the door to leave and absently descended the stairs. 

On her way down to breakfast, her thoughts were interrupted as she passed the library and caught sight of a very disheveled Harry. He sat in a large arm chair sulking, his shoulders sagging forward, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. 

Hermione was surprised to see him awake so early and wondered, as she watched him from the foyer, if his sullen looks were from a hangover or something else. His hair was more tousled than she had seen since the attack on Hogwarts, and his eyes had lost their luster. Hermione recognized his clothes from last night and suspected that he had never made it to his room. 

Concerned, Hermione approached him and asked, "What are you doing?" 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, muttering, "Nothing. Sirius left early this morning." His words sounded hollow and empty. 

Hermione sat down in the chair next to him, and for some moments, only watched him silently. His body language and expression reminded her of a lost child, and she realized how fitting that comparison was, even though he was nearly a man. Eventually, she awkwardly comforted, "At least he was here for a little while." 

Harry crossed his arms and shrugged once more, prompting her to gently squeeze his arm. Though Harry looked a mess, the knowledge that Sirius was gone was a great weight lifted from her. 

She leaned back in her chair and watched him thoughtfully. He looked as ill as he did melancholy, but hoping that food would provide a needed distraction, Hermione asked, "Why don't we eat in here?" 

Harry didn't answer, deciding instead to pick absently at a frayed piece of chair and ignored her as she called for Dobby. 

The little elf was more than eager to oblige, and handing one plate to Hermione, tried in vain to give the other to Harry, who simply looked away in disgust and began rubbing his temple. Taking the second plate from Dobby, she set it on the table next to Harry and gave the house-elf a sly wink, before sending him away. 

The smell of syrup was strong, as she looked down at the steaming pancakes that balanced on her lap. Gesturing towards the table she said, "Your breakfast is there if you want it. It looks delicious." 

Hermione noticed his face turned a shade paler with her talk of food. Turning away from the plate, he choked out, "I'm not really hungry. I think I had a bit too much to drink last night." 

"Really?" Hermione teased, raising her eyebrows with a smile. 

There was an awkward pause, as Harry cleared his throat and replied, "Sorry, if things got out of hand," and he looked up at her cautiously. Harry's coloring improved with his confession, his cheeks now taking on a pinkish hue. 

"It's all right. No harm done," Hermione said quickly, trying to avoid rehashing the night's excitement. 

"Yes, but I should have stopped Sirius from grabbing you," he replied regretfully. Pausing, his mouth turned up slightly as he added, "The look of shock on your face was priceless though!" 

Taking the plate from the table, Harry stabbed a pancake with his fork, showing no interest in bringing any of it to his mouth and grumbled, "If only Snape wouldn't have been there. Sirius still has marks all over his body." 

Hermione sat back and chided playfully, "Oh, Sirius deserved the hex." 

"Maybe," Harry admitted, "but not from Snape." 

"Snape really isn't that bad Harry. You might even like working with him if you gave it a chance. He's brilliant, and his research is fascinating." 

Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath that sounded vaguely like, "Fat chance." 

The tension was now almost tangible, and Hermione knew it would only worsen with her next words. 

Too nervous to look at him, she watched her plate as she asked quietly, "Would you consider coming back to work in the lab?" 

Harry suddenly dropped his fork and gripped the side of the chair, so that his knuckles became white, the tendons sticking out with his hold. 

She continued quickly, sounding more optimistic than she felt, "While Sirius was here, you really did miss a lot. You'd be surprised at the progress we've made." 

Touching his clenched fist, Hermione added softly, "Truly Harry, I thought working with the Killing Curse would be dreadful, but it's not. The potion works more often than not, but it's not perfect. That's why we need your help." She looked into his eyes and implored, "I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." 

Harry set his plate aside and leaned forward, balancing his forearms on his spread legs. His head slumped forward, and his eyes focused on his hands as he replied, "Even if that's so, I don't think I can work with Snape." 

"Harry, if it means a way to fight Voldemort, to win, isn't it worth almost anything?" 

Harry sighed, but did not answer, and Hermione ventured a request, "Let me show you how well his potion works." 

Nodding, he closed his eyes and whispered, "All right," before moving his hand to his mouth and losing himself in thought. 

Harry was being uncharacteristically reticent, and his monosyllabic answers concerned Hermione. She suspected he had agreed because at the moment, he didn't really care much about anything, except the loss of his godfather. 

Holding her plate in one hand, Hermione stood and reached for his as she said, "I'll meet you in the guest room in half an hour." 

Harry shrugged noncommittally, and pushing back the guilt of forcing her friend into something he was not comfortable with, Hermione turned to leave. 

They parted, and she walked slowly down the hall to gather the materials she would need for her demonstration. She was betting on something that was by no means a sure thing. If failure occurred, and it was as likely to as not, Harry would be horrified and never agree. 

Hermione opened the door to Snape's rooms even more slowly and entered. 

With a small smile, she greeted him, as he looked up from a pile of scrolls. Walking over to the nearest lab station, Hermione casually checked on the Portestas Potion, which was gently simmering. 

She picked up a small sack from the table and, placing a Charm on the bag, began filling it with the materials she would need. 

"I assume you have spoken with Potter then," Snape's harsh voice broke through the silence. 

Shrinking a caged mouse, Hermione replied calmly, "Yes. I thought it would be best to introduce him to our work alone." 

He nodded sharply, not looking at her. His short answers and rigid formality concerned Hermione, so much so that she felt compelled to ask, "May I come visit you later?" 

His features softened, and he nodded again, this time more slowly. "As long as you don't bring your," he paused and sneered, "friends with you." 

Knowing the news would please him, Hermione announced nonchalantly, "Oh, Sirius left early this morning. You have only me and Harry to contend with." 

Moving near her, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "That, I believe is one too many," and he slowly kissed her. 

Gently easing away, she murmured, "I will see you tonight." 

Her lips still tingled from their kiss, as she cast a Spell to lighten her load. With the bag in her hand, Hermione left, carrying a good portion of the lab up to the room directly adjacent to Harry's. 

As Hermione opened the door, she surveyed the temporary lab. The room, like hers, was a simple, but comfortable bedroom. Passing through the door, she levitated herself and her bag, concentrating on rearranging things as she wished. 

With a flick of her wand, the room began to whirl around her, as if she stood within the eye of a small hurricane. The bed shrunk down to a small size and swished to the corner, while the dresser lengthened and moved forward. Under her feet, the rug slid and rolled up in the corner, while bottles and vials and cauldrons popped out of the small bag, growing to full size and organizing themselves onto the make-shift lab station. 

A few minutes later, Harry silently entered the room, looking a bit surprised at its new arrangement. 

"Here," Hermione directed, handing him a small lidded jar. "Spread some of this cream on the mouse, while I measure the dosage." 

Harry took the jar hesitantly and opened the cap, reeling back as its putrid stench was released. With a hint of wry amusement in her voice Hermione called out, "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Try to keep your nose away. The odor is somewhat unpleasant." 

Hermione knew that tricking Harry into working with the Strengthening Salve would hardly encourage him to help, but the wicked pleasure she got from watching his face contort as he tried to smother the poor creature without breathing was worth the risk. Harry hastened his work and soon was off to the bathroom to clean up, leaving Hermione with a now very gloppy mouse. 

As she fed the mouse the potion through a long slender dropper, Hermione felt a twinge of anxiety, realizing how much depended on the success of this test. 

She glanced quickly over at her friend, who had now returned, and noticed that he was shifting his weight nervously from side to side. 

"Hermione..." Harry began, his words drifting off with anxiety. 

"It will be all right," she reassured. Deciding it best not to guarantee anything she added, "Besides, if something does go wrong, it's only a field mouse." 

Harry visibly swallowed and moved to lean against the wall, still watching, but distancing himself from what he knew was about to take place. Taking a deep breath, Hermione concentrated and commanded, "Avada Kedavra," and a streak of green flashed from her wand. 

The mouse wavered, a glazed look overtaking it. Hermione watched as it stumbled, shaking from limb to limb. It was a tumultuous experience, but as the light faded, the mouse still lived. 

Hermione felt a rush of excitement flood through her at her success. Nevertheless, she also felt dazed and sick, as the Curse drained away most of her energy. Leaning against the lab station, she supported herself. Lifting her head, Hermione noticed that Harry looked more than a little shaken as well. 

"Are you all right?" Harry moved towards her with concern. 

"Yes. I'm just tired," she replied weakly, forcing herself to straighten. 

Staring at the little mouse who was now busily sniffing something in the corner of the cage, Harry whispered in disbelief, "It really worked." 

"Yes, it did." Taking a deep breath to regain her balance, she asked hopefully, "So, will you help?" 

Harry nodded, "If nothing else, I might be able to find out if Snape really does fancy you like Sirius thinks." 

If the Curse had not drained the color from her face, Harry's words most certainly did. 

"Harry, please don't," Hermione plead in her most serious tone. 

"Don't look so appalled. I was only teasing you, Mione. Don't worry," he said lightly. 

Hermione did worry. 

~~~***~~~ 

Later that evening, Hermione bid Harry a goodnight and returned to her room, only to head for the fireplace and Snape's rooms. Calling through the flames, Hermione asked if she could come over and waited for longer than she thought necessary before a short, "Yes" echoed back. 

Though odd, Hermione did not suspect that anything was amiss as she stepped through the hearth. 

Upon entering his rooms, she became aware of the utter stillness of the room, and a feeling of dread crept into her. She found Snape sitting silently in front of her, staring through her, not focused on anything. 

She tried to speak, to ask what was wrong, but soon realized that her words, her movements, her presence were not provoking any sort of response. 

With no warning, his head turned slightly to look up at her. This smallest of movements was jarring, and she flinched with fear as he spoke. 

"I've just had a call from the headmaster," he paused, "There have been further attacks." 


	17. Aftershocks

  
  
Echoes**   
  
Chapter 17: Aftershocks   
  
  
  
It's amazing how much can change in one moment.   
  
  
As Snape announced, "There have been further attacks," his words were simple and clear. Though hearing, their full meaning did not register with Hermione at first.   
  
She studied his shuttered expression, trying to glean understanding and realized, as he paused and silence filled the room, that something awful had happened.   
  
Hermione's body tensed, her legs felt weak, and her heart rose to her throat, so that her voice sounded foreign as she asked, "What.." She paused, attempting to formulate her question.   
  
With an audible breath, Snape answered darkly, "Several of the safe-houses have been hit. Dumbledore risked contacting me, because he feared the worst."   
  
  
Snape leaned forward, elbows against his spread knees, his eyes examining the patterns in the rug. He sat less than an arm's length away from Hermione, yet he kept an emotional distance as he continued, "Our security has been compromised. The Death Eaters must have gotten hold of confidential information to have attacked so many hidden locations at once. We don't know how far the leak runs, but they must not know about our location yet."   
  
She felt somewhat dazed, and looked at him questioningly, "How can you be so sure?"   
  
He simply stated, "We're still alive."   
  
It was clear that people had died. Fearing the worst, Hermione cautiously asked, "Were any students attacked?"   
  
His voice was detached as he replied, "No, but many good wizards died today. These attacks have been a terrible blow to our cause.  I cannot fathom the ramifications of the losses suffered today."  He breathed out heavily, "There's more. The Ministry was hit. Arthur Weasley is dead."   
  
Hermione stared blankly ahead, stunned. At that moment, she was sure that she would soon wake up. She had spent the past three summers at the Burrow.  In these dangerous times, Hermione had been able to spend only a few short days with her parents each year.  The Weasleys had filled the void created by her parents' absence, becoming her surrogate family. The idea that Mr. Weasley was dead felt surreal, as if she were in a dream.   
  
"I can't believe it," she hoarsely choked out. "Are you sure? I mean, it's certain."   
  
He looked at her with weary sympathy, and relaxed his shoulders slightly. Rubbing his temples, he closed his eyes and replied, "There's no mistake."   
  
In the back of her mind, Hermione knew the events had truly occurred, but her conscious thoughts wouldn't accept his words as fact. Such strong disbelief settled into her, causing her a strange sort of detachment.   
  
She did not feel his fingers around hers, as Snape grasped her hand, guiding her to sit next to him. Tentatively, he moved his hand towards her and swept a stray piece of hair from her face. His touch broke through her numbness, bringing with its warmness a hint of reality, and the room became blurred as her eyes filled with tears.   
  
They sat awhile in silence. Several times, Snape moved as if to say something, but in the end, doing nothing at all. As the time crept by, and a distant sickness began to overtake Hermione, she realized that the likelihood of being caught in some awful dream was fading quickly. She began to shiver, though she didn't feel cold. To own the truth, she felt very little of anything.   
  
Hermione took a deep breath, in an attempt to calm herself, and with that breath came thoughts of Ron. He had always been there for her. She, Ron, and Harry were an inseparable trio. Yet now, when he needed her most, she was absent. With that realization, her tears became conscious and heartfelt.   
  
"Come here," and Snape wrapped his arms around her drawing her to him, his hands curling tightly into her hair. He was near her, yet his closeness gave her little comfort.   
  
Still, he was there for her. It felt wrong that she should have someone to lean on, but Ron did not have her. Not only was Ron alone, but poor Ginny was without her close friends to comfort her. In that instant, she was reminded of the fact that Harry was still oblivious to the situation.   
  
Before she had time to hesitate, she blurted out, "We have to tell Harry."   
  
Tightening his grip, Snape implored, "Hermione wait. I have neither the energy nor motivation to deal with the boy at the moment."   
  
At first, Hermione pushed away, ready to argue. She looked at him and noticed how haggard he appeared. The lines on his face were deeper than she had ever seen them, and his eyes seemed very tired. Judging from his appearance, Snape was not being unreasonable.   
  
Reluctantly, Hermione agreed to wait. Whenever Harry was told, he would undoubtedly insist on going back to be with Ginny. Truthfully, she wasn't ready to argue with him either. Still, Hermione felt sick at the thought of waiting. She wasn't certain why telling him was so important. Arthur Weasley would still be dead in the morning, but it felt wrong to leave Harry in the dark.   
  
Every person she thought of brought an ache to her heart, and sent her to the edge of losing control.   
  
Out of desperation, Hermione asked, "How could this have happened?"   
  
Shifting her thoughts and the conversation from the family, Hermione was able to cap her emotions. She could distance herself somewhat by searching for answers to the tragedy. There was still a pervasive uneasiness, and her eyes still were wet with tears, but focusing on the problem, rather than feeling the results, kept her from breaking down. In the end, conjectures were made, but nothing was solved. Not that any answer would have been truly comforting.   
  
In this way, the night wore on, until they had mulled over what little information they had so many times that nothing made sense. Snape's face grew paler and weary. Though she felt more restless than tire, she followed Snape to bed, not wishing to be alone.   
  
As she lay staring at the shadows from the low fire dancing on the ceiling, Hermione tried to succumb to sleep. Though she had moved away from Snape's embrace, she could feel the heat permeating from his body, reminding her that she was not alone and easing her restlessness. In this silence, with only the crackling of the fire and the slow breathing next to her, unwanted thoughts began to invade her head.   
  
Now that her mind could wander, it did so freely examining each word that was said and mulling over what ifs and regrets.   
  
Severus had been reticent and distant, but the attacks had noticeably affected him. Severus was skilled at hiding his thoughts, but this time, worry had shown on his face and in his words, and Hermione wondered how much he was keeping from her. The Weasley's were not his favorite of families, so it was not only Mr. Weasley's death that would have caused Severus to react as he had.  She worried at what he was keeping from her, and what repercussions the attacks would spur.  
  
These thoughts gave way to other, sadder one's, which until now, Hermione had been ignoring. There were thousands of emotions running through her from disbelief to grief, but most strongly the feelings of helplessness and isolation. There was nothing she could do to change things, and now, she couldn't even be there for her friend.   
  
She knew she needed a distraction to keep her from dwelling on things she could not change. Hermione pulled air harshly into her lungs and jolted up, trying to drive away the awful feelings and thoughts that had consumed her.   
  
An arm came around her, and a concerned voice whispered, "Hush."   
  
A small whimper escaped her pursed lips, and she moved to leave the bed, as she felt her emotions bubbling to the surface, ready to escape. She did not want Severus to view her as weak or to be present when she broke down.   
  
Gently, he pulled her back towards him.   
  
"I'm sorry, Severus. I don't mean to get upset." She turned to her side, kept down by the weight of his arm. "I shouldn't be here. I'll go back to my room."   
  
"Stay," he implored. "Once I'm awake, sleep is impossible, so stay with me." His words were without malous, but their meaning sent a pang of guilt through her. He seemed to sense her feelings, because he added, "You realize that I'm not unfamiliar with sleepless nights caused by too much reality."   
  
Hermione felt the lump in her throat increase, as she took comfort in being near someone who understood.   
  
Hermione slid herself up against him so that her head rested in the nook of his arm against his chest. His other arm came around her so that their bodies fit together like a jig-saw puzzle.   
  
When she spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper that startled her. "We're so isolated from the rest of the world. I want to believe that everything will stay the same, that nothing horrible could happen while we're gone. But terrible things are happening regardless if we're there to witness them or not." Hermione could feel his heartbeat quicken with her statement.   
  
From this thought came others, and words began spilling from Hermione's mouth, so randomly that they didn't always make sense to her, but he listened without interrupting. If Hermione had been completely rational, the idea that Snape would listen, truly listen without making harsh judgments would have seemed absurd. Talking helped to calm her down, as a release of built up tension and emotions.   
  
As her thoughts became more organized, her tempo slowed, until there fell an awkward silence. When she spoke again, her words were much more controlled and thoughtful.   
  
"I can't imagine what Mrs. Weasley must be going through right now. She and Mr. Weasley have been together for so many years. Whenever I think of one of them, I consider the pair."   
  
She took a deep breath and continued softly, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."   
  
With her words, Snape's grasp on her arm tightened. He hid his face in her hair, coughing out a half laugh against her neck, before murmuring, "I was having similar thoughts."   
  
Hermione shut her eyes at his words. Severus was so much more than she would have ever imagined from her experience with him in the classroom. Overtime, he had shown glimpses of himself, but tonight Hermione felt she had finally seen the true goodness within him. She wished she would have come to this realization under different circumstances, but it was there nonetheless, and Hermione now felt closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone.   
  
  
Propping himself up with one elbow, Snape paused for a moment, contemplating his words before continuing, "Our chances of returning home alive are slim. The Portestas Potion has several weeks before it will be ready, and the way things appear, we do not have a few weeks."   
  
  
He looked into her eyes and touched her face. "I'm resigned to the fact that I will probably lose you."   
  
Emotions flooded into Hermione at his statement, and she swallowed them down, so that she would not lose her composure again. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "You're a steadfast pessimist," and a weak smile formed on her face.   
  
Snape lowered his hand to the pillow, and replied, "I'm a realist."   
  
  
He moved away from her, sitting up against the headboard. He crossed his arms, distancing himself in more ways than one. With an impatient air, he began, "It's obvious that the Dark Lord's search for his enemies has intensified." Waving his hand in frustration, he sneered, "However foolish the concept, to most people, Harry is the last great hope. With him dead, our side will crumble. There will be no resistance." He spat out his words in anger. "I doubt very much that even with all the protections surrounding us, we will have time enough to finish our work."   
  
  
"Furthermore," he paused, lowering his voice, "if we do survive, there are other ways to lose you than through death."   
  
His dreary outlook was something that Hermione did not want to consider. She sighed, "If it is to happen, there's little either of us can do about it." Shaking her head to focus her thoughts, Hermione continued, "Besides, call it my Gryffindor optimism, but I still have hope."   
  
"Hmm. More likely your youthful inexperience," he mumbled.   
  
Hermione huffed in exasperation, "Is it really that bleak?"   
  
"Perhaps not," he sighed.  "I've been considering further precautions since Black managed to breach our security.  A few nasty surprises added to the wards on the entry way and to our rooms would make things more difficult for any attackers."  He paused, contemplating his next words.  "If we are able to return to Hogwarts and continue life as usual, I would be unwilling to give you up." He pulled his fingers through his lank hair, adding, "I just don't know what I would do with you."   
  
"That sounds familiar," she chided.   
  
"Back at school, the circumstances would be very much the same as they ever were, regardless of our feelings."   
  
  
Moving back towards her, he kissed her neck, pressing his nose against her and continued, "Hermione, I don't ever want to be without you. You mean more to me than a convenience." He paused, breathing warmth onto her neck. "I love you." His words vibrated against her skin, sending their meaning throughout her body.   
  
  
"I love you," she responded, prompting him to seek her mouth in a deep kiss.   
  
The need to feel him, to know that she was not alone, took hold. Hermione's emotions became focused onto that kiss, feeling and tasting his mouth. At length, he rose slightly, trailing soft pecks from her lips, down her neck to the exposed skin just above her collar bone. When he returned to her mouth, his hands were under her clothes, gently caressing her skin. She moved without thought to undress. As their kiss deepened, they began touching, softly caressing each other. Slower, gentler than ever before, they moved and touched and felt and shared--reaching out, soothing, comforting, making love.   
  
***~~~***~~~   
  
Eventually, the night passed, though for Hermione, it was restless and difficult. Morning came, and she awoke not for the first time, red-eyed, exhausted, and alone. Snape was nowhere to be seen, though Hermione supposed he had escaped to his lab. Much like her, he used work as a distraction.   
  
She did not remember Severus leaving. She had slept, just not soundly. It seemed every time she lost conscious control, terrible visions flooded in, jolting her awake. As a result, she was not well rested, and though very early, she knew that lying awake with nothing to do but think would be torture in itself.   
  
Sliding from the bed, she moved quickly to the bathroom. The morning air chilled her exposed skin, and she longed for a warm bath, both for her body and soul.   
  
Once inside the bathroom, Hermione ran the water hot and waited for the tub to fill. She turned towards the sink, absently picking up a toothbrush and glanced into the mirror.   
  
The constant sound of the running water caused her mind to drift, her reflection forming a hazy background within her thoughts. Hermione had always believed that she had control over her destiny, that she was a product of her choices. Really though, whatever choice she made or effort she put forth could easily be for naught, destroyed in a moment's time. From these thoughts sprang an image of the Weasley family looking somberly down at Mr. Weasley's grave. Hermione shook her head to clear it. Her reflection, now back in focus, contorted into a grimace, and she began brushing her teeth as a distraction. The image faded, but an achy emptiness lingered.   
  
This morning, reality had finally set in. Last night, she was in shock. Though she knew the events to be true, they did not feel it. But now she had slept and woken, and Mr. Weasley was still gone.   
  
Becoming upset would do her no good.   
  
Unfortunately, the general silence and inactivity within the cottage left for a lot of time to dwell on things. At Hogwarts, the whole castle--the pictures and even walls themselves--was alive with noise and activity.   
  
Climbing into the tub, the warmth that surrounded her was soothing. Splashing some water onto her face, she felt more awake as the moisture evaporated into the cool air.   
  
Hermione knew that she needed to speak with Harry. She also knew that time wouldn't make their talk any easier. With this knowledge, Hermione washed and dressed quickly, dreading leaving, but too restless to stay.   
  
Several times on her way to Harry's room, Hermione had the impulse to flee. The walls along the hallway felt cramped, as if they were closing in on her. The ceiling, which Hermione had never given much thought to before, was now all too much on her mind. Everything was confining and closed, and she felt the need to escape, if only for a little while.   
  
By the time she had reached Harry's door, Hermione was resolved to take their conversation elsewhere.   
  
Harry looked groggy and confused, as he cracked open his door, but his expression quickly turned to one of worry as he looked into her grave face.   
  
"What's wrong?" he asked sharply.   
  
Hermione began hesitantly, "Can we go for a walk? I need to get away for a bit." She motioned towards the stairway, before crossing her arms and shifting her weight uncomfortably.   
  
Whatever came to Harry's mind at her sudden appearance, he kept to himself as he simply nodded, before replying, "I'll get dressed," and he retreated back into his room.   
  
Hermione went to her room and hurriedly threw on her winter wear. The extra preparation for leaving felt somewhat liberating. At least she was moving, doing something, so that her thoughts couldn't fester. Hermione knew that wandering away from the cabin was a risk, but she needed the escape. She'd spent the past few weeks trapped within the walls of the cabin. While her mind had been focused on work, she hardly noticed, but now that things were falling apart, she couldn't stand being cooped up a moment longer. If Severus found out that she was leaving the safety of the cabin, he would be furious. Hermione hoped that his work would keep him occupied for awhile.   
  
The moment she and Harry stepped out into the cool air, and the wind and sun hit her face, Hermione was reminded of how alive she truly was.   
  
She had worked, slept and ate as she always had, following the clock back home. There was no reason to change her habits. The sun only shown for a few hours each day, and she rarely ventured outside. Though at Hogwarts, the sun had yet to rise, here, a half-world away, the dim light of day sat just above the horizon.   
  
She and Harry trudged through the snow and wilderness, until they came to the edge of a frozen lake. The sun trickled through the pine needles, reflecting off the white snow and ice that covered the small lake. Hermione leaned up against one of the thin trees and absently began picking at its bark.   
  
Looking out past the frozen water, and seeing forest for miles beyond and mountains pushing up against the horizon, Hermione gasped at the raw, untouched beauty of the wilderness. Though it was lovely, the scenery also gave her a strong sense of isolation.   
  
Her thoughts were lost to the task at hand as Harry caught her attention as he fidgeted and cleared his throat next to her.   
  
"I have bad news," she began, resting her head against the tree trunk.   
  
Thankfully, Hermione was spared an immediate response from Harry, who seemed to expect the worst. She tried to remain calm, though as her words poured out, they sounded shaky and choppy. Harry stood, silently watching the horizon.   
  
Hermione studied Harry's expression, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind. His breathing had increased, creating rapid puffs of fog in the winter air.   
  
Finally, and without looking at her, he choked out, "I should have known something terrible had happened.  My scar had been hurting all day.  I thought it was just a wicked hangover."  Shaking his head he muttered, "It doesn't seem real."   
  
Though the night had given her strength, Hermione still felt the surrealism of it all. "No," she paused, "It doesn't for me either. Life's just moving on, and there's nothing we can do to change things." She shook her head, and closed her eyes against the tears. "It probably won't feel real for a while. At least not until we see the family."   
  
"When do we leave?" Harry asked as more of a challenge than a question. His eyes were quickly turning red and glistening from tears, as he stared straight ahead, clenching his hands into tight fists at his side.   
  
Hermione sat down in the snow, resting her forehead on her knees as she brought them up to her chest. "Harry, you know we can't go back now. Not for a few weeks at least."   
  
Turning towards her, he glared down, his hand gesturing wildly as he spat, "Why? Why shouldn't I go?" He scoffed, "This plan that Snape has us working on is a joke."   
  
Hermione looked up at him, arguing, "That's not true. We've accomplished a great deal. With a bit more time..."   
  
"With more time," he interrupted, "Voldemort's forces will grow stronger, and more people will die, just like Mr. Weasley and my parents." His last words were shouted, so that he heaved large breaths from anguish and frustration.   
  
"Harry please," Hermione pleaded. "If you go back now that's what will happen to you and Ron and Ginny. I know it doesn't seem like it, but right now, the best thing you can do is stay away. We need to have a plan that will work. If we can perfect the formula, we can avenge Mr. Weasley's death and the deaths of everyone else. Going back to Ginny will only get you both killed."   
  
Harry sat down next to her, noticeably affected by her pleas. Picking up a handful of snow, he muttered, "You don't know what it's like."   
  
Hermione peered into his eyes and unmovingly replied, "I understand more than you think, Harry."   
  
Harry threw the clump of snow onto the ice and mumbled, "How could you? The nearest thing to a relationship you've had was with Victor Krum, and that was years ago."   
  
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.   
  
Suddenly, realization flickered in Harry's eyes, and his voice became almost fearful as he asked, "Was Sirius right about you and Snape?"   
  
Hermione couldn't help but laugh slightly at his horror. "It's a long story. I've spent a great deal more time with him than you realize."   
  
Harry stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment. A pained smile came to his face. Wiping a few tears away, he shook his head in disbelief. "This is too much. How? No, wait." He held up his hand. "I don't want to know."   
  
Hermione could feel her throat tighten in reaction, and she too began crying, releasing a culmination of bottled emotions.   
  
They sat in the snow together, not really feeling the cold. The silence that followed her admission left time for Hermione to contemplate all that had happened and all that was to come.   
  
Hermione stayed with Harry for several hours explaining her time with Snape in the Dark Land and listening and sharing feelings, fears, and concerns.   
  
  
After some choked laughter and false starts, Harry blurted out, "Please don't tell me how caring and sensitive he really is."   
  
Hermione watched Harry closely. He didn't appear nearly as angry with her as she had guessed he would be. She suspected that Mr. Weasley's death made their relationship trivial in comparison. She responded cautiously, "Severus is not what anyone would describe as sensitive, but he is caring."   
  
"You're lying. This is some great scheme of yours to keep my mind off things."   
  
She reached over, squeezing his arm affectionately. "You know I wouldn't lie to you about this." He looked at her incredulously as she continued, "Harry, if we didn't suit each other, I wouldn't be with him."   
  
  
They stayed outside watching the sun sink into the horizon, each one lost in thought. Eventually, the cold began to seep through their clothes. Though exhausted, Hermione felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her.   
  
"Shouldn't we be getting on with it then?" Harry finally asked.   
  
Hermione nodded with the knowledge that things would probably get worse before they got better, but with the hope that they would survive.   
  
  
  
  
**


	18. The Final Battle

**Echoes**

**Chapter 18:  The Final ****Battle******

In much the same way as it had begun, Hermione's time at the cabin ended —with an attack.

The weeks following Mr. Weasley's death were focused solely on work; the gray walls of the lab formed the backdrop to Hermione, Snape and Harry's lives.  For Hermione, the work was freeing.  She had always strove to excel at whatever endeavor she undertook and was now in her element.  Within the walls of the cabin, there was a new, almost compulsive energy, and its occupants were driven by a single purpose—to defeat Voldemort.  

This drive was particularly noticeable in Harry.  Although he and Severus rarely spoke but in greeting, they no longer argued.  At first, Hermione hadn't noticed the truce.  She and Harry had worked strictly in the lab, while Severus spent much of the day tightening security and adding extra deterrents onto the doors and entryways.  However, he now spent most of his time with them in the lab, and everything was going surprisingly smoothly.  

This truce was helped along by the variety of tests and chores that needed to be attended to throughout the day.  Although they were forced to work within the same room, the laboratory was large and there was much work to do.  While someone always worked, testing the potion to counteract the effects of the Killing Curse, someone else was always busy across the room, brewing the _Portestas _Potion.

Hermione hadn't ventured outside since her conversation by the lake with Harry.  Their work had taken up her every waking moment, and with Severus' new "precautions," movement outside of the cabin would have been far too dangerous.

Finally that morning, after months of careful preparation, Hermione was awoken by a queer, but distinctive odor that rose slowly from the basement to Severus' bedroom.  With anticipation, she and Snape made their way down to the laboratory to check on the potion.  As anticipated, the _Portestas Potion had matured overnight, its deep green color indicating that it was finally ready.  They now only needed to add a few drops to the Spiral—a powerful and ancient artifact—and they would be able to create a portkey strong enough to rip through the very fabric of space-time._

Using his wand, Snape extinguished the low flame that had burned beneath the cauldron and cast a quick Cooling Spell.  As Snape turned away, jotting notes in his journal, Hermione watched the solution thicken into a gelatinous syrup; lighter hues swirled on top of the forest green as it cooled.  As she stared into the cauldron, inhaling its fumes, the reality of their plan began to sink in, and she worried if they would be able to succeed, to trap Voldemort in another dimension.

Hermione knew it was certainly possible.  She had first hand experience being sucked into another dimension by a similarly powerful portkey.  She and Snape had spent months trapped within a timeless universe.  They had found a way to escape, however, and that was why Hermione feared sending Voldemort to a similar fate.   

Snape's solution to this was to destroy Voldemort's body; much the same as Harry's mother had done when she sacrificed her life and caused Voldemort's curse to reverberate back onto him.  In the years before Hermione's birth, the man, Tom Riddle, had used the darkest magic, experimenting on himself until he was no longer a man.  This new creature, Voldemort, could never truly die.  Oh, his body could be destroyed, but his essence in the form of a vaporous mist would linger.  By simultaneously hitting Voldemort with multiple Killing Curses, Snape hoped that, he would be completely powerless to escape from the alternate universe.  

For Snape's plan to work however, he and several Aurors would need to get close enough to Voldemort to cast _Avada Kedavra.  To give the Aurors a necessary edge, Hermione and Snape had been working to develop a counter agent—one that would negate the effects of the Killing Curse.  And so, Hermione had learned the curse, testing the counter agent on field mice.  Only recently had Harry actively participated in the investigation.  He had been unwilling to learn the curse that had been used to destroy his family.  His opposition to their work had been mollified by Hermione, and now, after Mr. Weasley's death, Harry was determined to do anything to see Voldemort defeated._

A sudden realization that she was being watched pulled Hermione from her thoughts.

She glanced up from the cauldron to see Snape's eyebrows raised and a glimmer in his dark eyes.  His voice was condescending, but there was a light air about him as he said, "If you find potions work so repulsive, we could always use you as a scullery maid."  

"What?," Hermione questioned hesitantly, wondering what he was playing at.

He smirked slightly as his long finger pulled at her bottom lip, replying, "Your sour expression is nothing then?"

Self consciously, she straightened.   Her voice softened as she answered, "I was just thinking about what this potion means."

Snape simply nodded.  There were many layers to her words, and he seemed to be reluctant to delve into their meaning.  Bringing his arm around her waist, he pulled her near and leaned down to place a kiss firmly on the crown of her head.

With this contact, Hermione needed to know more.  Impulsively she asked, "If your plan succeeds, what will you do then?"

She could feel his grip tighten and his body stiffen behind her.  He coughed out a short laugh into her hair and, keeping his mouth near, responded cautiously, "Is this a general question, or one that is specific to us?"

She shifted, glancing up at him and smiled realizing how uncomfortable he was.  "Both I suppose."

He moved away from her, sliding his hands along her hips as they separated.  He turned to the cauldron and uttered a Levitating Spell, moving it to an iron stand on the adjacent table.   Hermione's eyes followed his movements curiously.  He was stalling.

Leaning up against the lab station, Snape let out an audible breath and, crossing his arms, began slowly, as if considering each word carefully, "If the Dark Lord was gone, with no chance of returning, I would most likely return to Hogwarts and finish the year as your professor.  I owe the Headmaster that at least; however, I doubt if I'd continue teaching beyond this term."

Hermione nodded, "I suspected as much."

He tilted his head back as he let out a genuine laugh.  "Really?" he asked.  Returning his gaze to her, he appeared more relaxed as he continued, "And what gave me away?  Was it my love of children or the joy I show after reading the rubbish my students consider essays?"

Hermione held back a laugh and began watching her feet. 

Snape let his arms drop and sighed.  "No, I never wanted to teach.  After the Dark Lord fell, everyone was convinced he had been destroyed.  I knew that wasn't true and that he would take the first opportunity to return to power.  Considering that my role as a spy had been revealed, Hogwarts was my best option."  

Picking up an empty test tube and rolling it absently in his hand, he continued, "When I joined the Death Eaters, I was naïve and arrogant."

Hermione's head shot up, surprised by his confession.

Without reacting, he continued impassively, "I had heard rumors, but chose not to believe them in my search for knowledge and acceptance.  Support for the Dark Lord was strong among the Slytherins, and I didn't realize, until it was too late, the atrocities that were being committed," he paused, his slender finger tracing the rim of the glass and grimaced, as if pushing back awful memories.

He took a deep breath and added rapidly, "Since my parents' deaths, there's been no need for me to work at all.  I'm certainly not destitute.  I inherited the family estate and could live there comfortably.  I suppose if I had the chance, I would become something of a recluse."

Hermione began to chuckle at the thought of Severus as anything else, but was stopped short by his voice.

"You think I'm joking, but I'm quite serious.  I dislike almost everyone and am happiest when I'm alone.  Present company excluded of course," and he bowed his head in a chivalrous manner.

There was pause when neither person spoke, and Severus shifted uncomfortably under Hermione's watchful eyes.  

"May I ask," he said, breaking the silence, and pointed the test tube at her, "how well you would like being secluded from society?  While I realize that you're more like me than not, you certainly enjoy the company of your friends and family.  Surely, you would not wish to be tied to a man such as myself."

Hermione was caught off guard by the implications of his question, and she fidgeted for a moment before attempting a stalling technique of her own. "That depends," she said playfully.  "What is your estate like?  Is it a dreary, crumbling castle, or is it brighter and more cheerful like Tara?"

With suspicion, he asked, "Tara?"

"Oh, it's the estate from 'Gone with the Wind."  She sighed wistfully, "What a fabulous movie."

"I've never been to the cinema," he muttered and waved the test tube around dismissively, "and you've yet to answer my question."

"Well, I suppose it depends on what your estate is like," she teased.

"I'm serious."

His dark tone made her stomach flutter nervously, and she knew she couldn't evade his question any longer.  Taking a deep breath, Hermione answered as honestly as possible. "Well, I would expect that Harry and Ron would prefer me to see me alone anyway.  I've always been independent, and you've never interfered before.  Why couldn't I live my life as I choose with you as a part of it?" 

Snape nodded, "I have no wish to control you." 

"That's that then," she said relieved at the outcome.  Moving several jars aside, she asked, "You've really never been to the cinema?"

He looked slightly annoyed by her persistence.  "I'm a wizard, Hermione, and have spent my entire life as one."

"There are some things, Severus, that are uniquely Muggle and still worthwhile."

"And the cinema is one of those?" he asked incredulously.

"Absolutely!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.  "Unlike a simple play, the actors are larger than life, displayed on the big screen.   Movies can take you to different worlds; the special effects in some are amazing.  In fact, I think a good movie would be something that even you would appreciate."

"I never said that I was interested."

"Hmm…" was Hermione's only response, though it was clear that she had already made plans.

Turning back to the cauldron, Snape ignored her last statement and, changing the subject, reverted back to work.  "I want to run a few tests before we add the potion to the Spiral.  It would be best to start on this immediately.  We should work through breakfast and take a break for tea later."

Since the _Portestas_ Potion was used to increase the magical output of enchanted items, the purpose of the tests was twofold:  First to determine if the _Portestas _Potion would indeed increase magical output and second to see if the increase was significant enough to work on the Spiral—an already powerful magical item.   Refocusing her attention back to the work at hand, Hermione agreed and went to collect several small trinkets that she could place simple charms upon.

They worked through the early morning; Harry joined them a few hours later.  When he entered, Snape was busy recording the results on parchment, so Hermione went to fill Harry in on their success.

At some point, Snape called for Hermione to assist him with the final steps of the portkey.  "Miss Granger, measure this potion out, while I prepare the Spiral."

Hermione glanced over at Harry who was scratching his forehead, and would have been concerned over any attention to his scar, but his grin eased her mind.  She knew why he was smiling.   It was silly that Snape still kept to such formalities as calling her Miss in front of Harry.  Harry knew that she and Snape had a relationship, and more importantly, Snape was aware that he knew.   She had told Snape privately the same day that Harry had discovered the truth.  Hermione shook her head realizing that once the truth was out, it could no longer be denied, regardless of how earnest an attempt Snape was currently making.  No one would openly air the knowledge, and so the result was something almost comical.

Pouring a pipette's worth of potion on the artifact, the Spiral sprang to life.  Its many arms twisted around, reaching, moving, crawling like earthworms in the mud.  Hermione could feel the magical energy released, giving her a sense of its power.

Snape appeared pleased as he examined its magical output with his wand.

"Now, I need only to set the portkey to respond to my voice, when I cast the Killing Curse, and it should be ready."  He paused.  With little emotion, he added, "We may survive this ordeal yet."

Hermione couldn't help but tease, "Was that a glimpse of optimism from Severus Snape?"  A smile twitched at the edge of her mouth.

He glared down at her, but there was a softness in his eyes that told more than his words as he raised his eyebrows in mock contempt before merely replying, "As I have said before, I'm a realist.  I did not mean to imply that this would be easy, simply that all hope is not lost."

As Snape prepared the Spiral to activate with his voice, Hermione went to help Harry with the testing he was doing.  Their work on the potion to counter the effects of the Killing Curse was going as well as they could have hoped.  The lack of variety of subjects to test the potion on hindered their work.  Ideally, Snape would have liked human subjects to work with, but they would have to wait to gather any "field" results until they returned to Hogwarts.  Aurors were dying each day in battle, and though not as controlled as laboratory experiments, they would do.

Hermione could hear Snape quietly murmuring incantations that were unintelligible from across the room.  When the rhythmic sounds of his chanting stopped, there was silence for a few moments until it was broken by him calling across the room, "I believe it is ready."  He paused, looking over to where Hermione was working.  Picking up the Spiral, he moved towards the stairs.  "Let me put the portkey away, so that it isn't accidentally activated." 

Clearing a lab station in preparation for another test, Hermione, now alone with Harry, noticed him rubbing his forehead again—his scar to be precise.  This time, however, Harry's face was contorted into a grimace.  

Hermione was definitely concerned.

Before the sounds of Snape's steps had reached the bedroom floorboards, they began echoing once more against the stone stairs.   As Snape re-entered the room, his eyes were fixed on Harry.  His normally expressionless face was shuttered, but there was something behind his eyes that sent a chill through Hermione and made her heart beat fiercely within her chest.

"What's happened?" Hermione quickly asked.

No one immediately replied.  Trying to find some answer, Hermione looked questioningly from Harry to Snape and noticed that the latter was clutching his left forearm tightly, his knuckles white with tension.   As if on cue, he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a dark black skull and snake--a burning Dark Mark.  She'd seen his bare arm before and would have certainly noticed if that had been there.

This was very bad.

"We must leave now," Snape commanded between clenched teeth.

A cold fear came over Hermione, only to become worse when, from behind her, Harry cried out in pain.   She turned to find him hunched over, clutching his forehead.   Instinctively, Hermione reached for him, supporting him under his arm, to assist him up the stairs.  In that instant, an alarm, the house alarm, began blaring from all around.  The shriek was not unexpected, but it unnerved Hermione even more.

Snape shot forward.  He hid the Spiral within his robes and, reaching the lab station, grabbed several vials and flasks.  With his free hand, he wrenched Harry to him and up the stairs.  By the time they had reached the bedroom, the walls were vibrating with the sounds of the siren.

Hermione immediately rushed to Harry's side, taking his arm around her shoulder to help support him, and headed for the door, expecting Snape to move with her.  Instead, he released Harry to her.  He stopped and, handing two of the vials to Hermione, Snape ordered, "Prepare yourselves."   Hermione, moving as if on autopilot, nervously opened the vials, while Snape strode to the far wall, downing the third on the way.  His hand slid easily through the apparently solid wall, disappearing for an instant before reappearing with a stuffed teddy bear and a mirror.  Tapping the mirror with his wand, he quickly ordered, "Send reinforcements now," before tossing it aside.  He headed for the door, teddy bear in hand.

As he cautiously cracked the door to the hallway and peered into the darkness, a roaring explosion rocked the house sending a blast of dust and debris into the room.  The force caused Snape to stagger backwards, covering his face with his arm.  The walls shook and the shelves rattled, sending books onto the ground.  Hermione shielded Harry, who was still disorientated, from the falling debris.

With the explosion, the sirens came to an abrupt halt. Though the blares had ceased, things were far from silent. The house was creaking and wailing and shaking.  In addition, the sounds from the alarms still echoed in Hermione's ears, making the terror that emanated from the walls more real.   

Slamming the door shut, a moan bellowed from the hinges as the door expanded, arching inward.   Without a look back, Snape dropped the stuffed animal to the floor, knowing it was too late to escape, and walked past Harry and Hermione pointing his wand at the far corner of the room towards the entrance of the lab, commanding "_Ignitus_".   

As a second explosion burst from the laboratory, Hermione tried to remain focused on her task, rubbing the Strengthening Salve over her body and face, and helping Harry to cover as much of his skin as possible.  The smell wasn't nearly as awful as it had been when she first developed it, but the odor was far from pleasant.  Hopefully, the Strengthening Salve would be as useful to them against the Killing Curse as it had been during their laboratory tests.  She tried to hide her fear as she worked, though her hands were shaking as she held the salve.

When Snape spoke again, it was as much to himself as to anyone.  Looking towards the fireplace he mumbled, "We need to get up high.  It's our best chance for defense."

Harry was beginning to straighten up, to stand on his own; although his face was still pale as a ghost.

Releasing her support, Hermione asked tentatively, "Are you all right?"  

"Yes, I'll be fine," Harry answered breathing harshly, but appearing at least somewhat composed.  With his words, the couple followed Snape toward the hearth. 

Amongst a blur of black soot, they rushed through the fireplace and were quickly standing in Hermione's room.  The area was dark and ominously silent, the terror from the ground floor having yet to radiate to this room.  The light from the low fire made the room glow a soft orange, giving a false sense of security.  In this silence, the sounds of their heavy breathing and shaky voices became apparent.

As they headed, wands drawn, toward the door; Harry placed a hand on Hermione's arm and said, "Wait."  He paused, gathering his thoughts for a moment and continued in a low voice, imploring, "I have an idea, but I need some things from my room."

Snape huffed dismissively, "Potter, we don't have time for your…"

"I have my Invisibility Cloak in there," Harry interrupted.   "It will give us an advantage."

Snape gave a short nod and, sneaking against the wall beside the bedroom door, he guardedly looked down the darkened hallway, before slipping silently into the upstairs corridor.  He motioned for Hermione and Harry to follow.  The light was very faint, and Hermione's eyes had yet to adjust, so it came as a shock when Snape pushed her flat against the wall.  Hermione stood silently, feeling the rough plaster, and listened, waiting for something that she prayed wouldn't show.  

Harry took this opportunity to disappear into his room.

As she and Severus waited, motionless against the wall, the railing that ran along the upstairs balcony in front of them began to grow and thicken until it became a solid barricade, standing as tall as Hermione's chin.  Moving from the far wall, the two took positions along the barrier.  

Hermione looked over the barricade.  Down below, the foyer was now completely isolated, the hallway which led to Severus' rooms and outside no longer existed—replaced instead by a smooth wall.  The house appeared to be responding to the danger, protecting them.

This time of waiting, staring into the darkness, knowing that a fight was eminent, was unbearable.  As the moments crept by, Hermione's anxiety increased, so that she felt as if her stomach was turned inside-out and her heart might leap out of her chest at anytime.   

Gently, but unexpectedly, something grazed against Hermione's shoulder and she reeled back, searching, but seeing nothing.  Hermione pointed her wand aimlessly, blindly trying to determine where to send the curses, when Harry's voice called out, "It's me!"  Harry's head floated into view and he repeated, "It's me."

Somehow, Hermione found her voice and gasped, "Harry!  You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, it's just…"  Harry opened the cloak, exposing the rest of his body.  "Look.  I've brought my broom.  I can use the cloak and attack from above."

"Get on with it then, Potter," Snape snapped, his eyes tensely focused on the darkness below.

Giving him one last hug, Hermione whispered, "Harry, be careful."  As Harry disappeared under his cloak, Hermione felt her throat tighten, and she realized that she may never see him alive again.  

Taking her place next to Snape along the barricade, she waited…

remaining, motionless…

and listened….

The open area amplified Snape's harsh respiration.  Combined with her own breathing and heartbeat, the seriousness of their situation became concrete.  Only when they were alone had she been as aware of their bodies as she was at that moment; but they were far from alone now.  Though invisible, Harry was near, and there were others—dark, dangerous others, in black hoods and white masks who were encircling the cabin, slowly forcing their way to Hermione's location.  Minutes ticked away, and Hermione's morbid thoughts festered in the uncertainty.   

In an instant, all that changed.  Her senses piqued, as the once silent walls began to moan and a ripping echoed throughout the house.

Peering back over the railing, down to the foyer, Hermione saw a deep fissure the width of a human body stretch up to the ceiling.  Something had broken through the cabin's protections, tearing an entrance; a power that hoped to overwhelm them, to destroy them.  From the darkness of the crack, Hermione saw something white catch in the dim light.  A hooded shadow crept slowly from the hall, only his white mask clearly visible.

Before she could react, a shot rang out, and a red beam sent the shadow slamming hard against the foyer wall.

As quickly as the first Death Eater had been dealt with, another appeared from the crack.  

"Take cover," Snape commanded harshly as he shot another spell from his wand.  His free hand pushed her forcefully to the ground, as he jolted sideways away from a flash that hit the wall behind them.

Looking up from the floor, Hermione saw other flashes; red, green, blue, yellow, white; blasting out from random points sporadically.  '_Harry'_, she thought.  Cries were heard after several of the flashes.

The fighting was fierce; though as the Death Eaters entered the foyer from the narrow hallway, they were easy targets.  Hermione moved from her knees, rising to her feet against the barrier, creeping towards the edge to get a better view and to take aim.

Unbeknownst to her, the fissure that ran up the wall was widening, as if afraid to allow what was moving through it to touch. 

As she stood, hunched against the barricade, a blinding flash, brighter than any spell she had ever seen cast before, shot into the air, creating daylight within the cabin; and with a loud bang, something slammed against the wall above her, hard.  Hermione lurched towards the sound of the thump of cloth and wood and body that was Harry.

A wild, high pitched cackling rose from below as Hermione made her way to where she thought she had heard Harry fall, afraid of what she might find.  She felt the silkiness of the Invisibility Cloak, and pulling the cloth away, she saw Harry's limp body.  As she touched his shoulder, he winced, his eyes fluttering open.  Though dazed, Harry was alive.

Suddenly, a great burst of energy hit the barricade, sending sparks over the edge, and Hermione quickly ducked low, covering Harry's body.   With its impact came a loud bang, followed by strange pinging sounds.  Startled, Hermione looked up to find that the railing had forced its way loose from the ledge.  Large, red eyes glowered at her as the wood took on a leathery appearance, and a gigantic serpent, teeth bared, appeared in its place.

Hermione twisted, scuttling back against the wall.  

As the railing morphed and slithered loose, it set Snape off balanced; another flash hit, sending him hurtling, tumbling over the edge of the balcony to the floor below.

The snake darted towards Hermione, trapping her against the wall.  It stopped inches from her, and she froze, mesmerized by its black eyes.  Slowly, it came closer, ready to strike.  Breathing out, the cold air from its nostrils pushed her hair back, coating her face with its rancid smell.

And then, the most unusual thing happened.  A series of custards began shooting at the creature's face, covering its forehead and streaming down into its eyes.  The trance was broken.  

Without thinking, Hermione grabbed Harry's broom, hitting the beast between the eyes as it thrashed about.  The strike caused it to rear back.  As the creature arched away, Hermione regained her senses and took the opportunity to fire her wand, sending it off the edge. 

As the serpent fell out of sight, Dobby now appeared from where it had been, jumping up and down, ecstatic over his good deed.

"Dobby help Miss, yes?" he squealed.

"Hush, Dobby," Hermione pleaded in a hoarse whisper.  "Yes, you helped, but you must stay silent."

"Yes Miss.  Dobby will help again."  And with his exclamation, he disappeared into the floor.

Staying low to the ground, Hermione crawled across the hallway, followed closely by Harry.

Hermione looked down at Severus lying sprawled out at the foot of the stairs.  He moved slightly, but made no attempt to protect himself or to fight.  Hermione recognized the monster that towered over him, though she had never seen him before.  Tall and thin, his pasty, hairless skin was stretched oddly over his skull.   His body, though covered with clothing, resembled a reptile much more than it did a man.

The giant serpent that had been their barrier, now moved wildly down below, striking violently with lightning speed at the Death Eaters that were near it, forcing them to retreat from its attack.

Voldemort did not appear to notice the commotion that was occurring behind him, nor did he notice Hermione above, his eyes focused on Snape, circling his body, glaring down and hissing, though the exact words were a mystery.  Then, Hermione heard a familiar and feared word, as he cried, "_Crucio_," causing Snape to writhe and cry out in pain.

Helplessly, they watched the torture.  Hermione was at a loss as to what to do.  If they struck now, Snape's plan would fail; but as the moments passed, it became clear that even if they waited, his plan would not succeed.

Voldemort paused for a moment, but continued hovering over Snape.  The Dark Lord smiled—a cruel, evil smirk.  Lazily, he drawled, "_Avada Kedavra," and a green flash enveloped Snape.  _

____________________________________________________________________

A/N:  The next chapter should be out within a few days.  It's already written; I had originally envisioned this chapter to go a bit longer, but my awesome beta reader, Molly (rhitmcshanm), thought things worked better as two separate chapters.  I bow to her greater knowledge.  I now just have to tweak the second half, and hopefully expand on a few things before I post. 

Thank you again for everyone who has read and reviewed!  

Just a few plugs for some of my reviewers whose works I absolutely love!  If you haven't read these yet, go do so.

**Xanthos**—I hope a new chapter of "The Predicament of Marriage," is coming out soon.  I loved the part where Snape is thinking 'mine, mine, mine' about Hermione.  

**Severely_Snaped**—I can't wait for another chapter of "Erased."  Your explanations as to Snape's memory loss are very "magical."

**Nicolette**—I'll be sad to see "Winter Heart," come to an end.  You always have such unique ideas—like the bracelet and the Snake of Slytherin.

Finally, I love the works of **Veressna**** Ussep, and ****Martha and Squirrel.  Each author has a different vision for Snape, but all of their stories are extremely well written and compelling.  I'm looking forward to the sequels that will (hopefully) be out for "Secretly Slytherin," and "Wrongs Darker than Death or Night."**


	19. The Outcome

**Echoes**

**Chapter 19:  The Outcome  **

The flash of green that enveloped Snape, forced every appearance of life from his body, causing his limbs to go limp and unmoving like a rag doll.  The light was brilliant, and it lingered.  In that moment, time slowed for Hermione, and all of her fears flickered in the green light.

Now that Snape was no longer a concern, Voldemort slowly turned, his foot moving up to the bottom stair.  Though her eyes should have been focused on the creature that was now moving toward her, or even on the many shadows in the foyer that scrambled and shouted, fighting the giant serpent, they were instead on Snape—waiting, watching and hoping.  

That is not to say that Hermione was not scared for her life, but rather that her concern for Snape, not knowing if the potion had worked, overrode any other feelings she may have had.  Time stood still; her breath caught in her chest as she waited.  

And in that instant, Hermione saw something subtle, but significant.

Out of Snape's hand rolled an object, too shadowed and far away to clearly see, but Hermione knew what it was.  Awkwardly, Snape slid backwards, drawing Voldemort's attention away from Harry and Hermione; an expression of disbelief formed on the Dark Lord's face.

Quickly, Hermione grasped Harry's hand; they both knew what they had to do.

Rising slightly, they pointed their wands at Voldemort.  Using all their strength, they focused on the monster.  In unison, Hermione and Harry shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!"  Two thin flashes joined into a thick beam as it neared the Dark Lord's chest.  From the floor below, a third, pained Killing Curse was cast just slightly out of sink with their voices, but the flash hit his chest before the large ray dissipated.

For an instant, there was silence.  Then with a burst of energy, Voldemort's body split open, the ripples from the blast sending shockwaves up the stairs, forming a rift in the steps; what remained of the barricade tumbled into the foyer.

As a vaporous mist rose from the corpse, Snape somehow managed to crawl backwards, away from the scene.

The Spiral next to Voldemort's body began to glow and move and twist.  Near the glowing gem, a dark void unfolded; small at first, it grew exponentially--wide, but without depth.   Its concave edges swooped like a blanket over Voldemort, engulfing the body, vapor and debris.

And then there was nothing.  As quickly as the apparition had appeared, it collapsed in upon itself, leaving no trace of the darkness.  

The blast that shook the ground with the Dark Lord's destruction was massive and did not go unnoticed by the enemies within the foyer.  The Death Eaters, who had so readily attacked, now fled, the serpent slithering after them down the hallway.

The stairs were severely damaged.  They could almost be called rubble, but they had not entirely collapsed, so that Hermione began the difficult trek downwards, wading over giant chunks of stone, trying desperately to reach Severus as quickly as possible.  

The movement was slow however, and for once, when Harry offered, Hermione gratefully accepted a broom ride.

As they glided down, Snape moved, trying to sit up against the bottom stair.  His body was shaking uncontrollably, his hand still tightly clutching his wand, so that Hermione doubted if he could in fact release it if he tried. 

"Severus!" Hermione called out as she neared him, jumping from the broom before her feet even touched the ground.  

Snape shifted towards her, so that she finally was able to clearly see him, and he was a sight to see.  His pale face was bloodied and bruised; a large cut ran across his bottom lip, red trickling down his chin.   He was a wreck.  To Hermione however, he was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on.  Grasping his free hand which still trembled, she brought her other arm around him and squeezed tightly.

A rush of emotions flooded into Hermione, and without realizing it, tears began flowing down her cheeks.  She spoke with more feeling than thought as she held him.  "I was so frightened; I don't know what I'd do without you."

He was shaking bitterly hard, but his arms were firmly wrapped around her.   Kissing her neck, he simply closed his eyes and held tight.  

Hermione had never felt such joy.  His arms and chest were warm and solid and alive.  The notion that the war was over, truly over, hadn't fully hit her yet, but she knew that she needed him, and he was there.

What Harry thought or felt at that moment watching the two lovers together, Hermione did not know; but he stood silently, not interfering.  It wasn't Harry that caused Hermione to leave Severus' side, but rather the sound of intruders, shouting commands, and feet shuffling down the hallway.

Before any more could be said, the house was filled with Aurors, surrounding them, wands out, searching.  Most of the group ignored them as they sat silently on the remnants of the stairs.  Several Aurors spread out against the walls, seeking out dangers in the shadows.  

The house was no longer as dim as it had been; the chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling now shown brightly, illuminating the foyer and making the damage to the house much more apparent.  The far wall had been broken in two by an irregular fissure.   The stairs resembled a pile of boulders that one might find along the sea side.  Now that the lights were on, Hermione could see that the wreckage fanned out across the floor.  To an outside observer, it must have appeared as if an earthquake had struck.

One tall Auror came toward them.  As he neared, Hermione noticed he had an expression of disgust on his face, as well as what appeared to be chunks of wet tomato.  His arm outstretched, he held a squirming Dobby, hanging by his tea towel.  The little elf's brightly socked feet were kicking wildly in the air.

Glaring down at Hermione, the man demanded, "Is this creature yours?"

Hermione nodded, shell shocked by his gruff introduction, and Dobby was dropped with a thump.  

"The little miscreant was throwing food at my officers." 

Hermione could picture Dobby doing just that.  She also felt a surge of protectiveness for the creature and replied with more force than she intended, "He was only trying to help."

Ignoring the Auror, Hermione turned to Dobby and in a gentle voice asked, "Dobby, will you find Crookshanks?  I don't want to leave without him."

The House Elf's face brightened and he stood, fidgeting anxiously, "Oh, yes!  Dobby will find Misses' cat."

"Tell him to get the portkey from my rooms," Snape muttered hoarsely.  

Hermione could feel Snape's robes shake against her arm, and resisting the urge to hold him, she focused her attention back to Dobby. "We need the stuffed bear from the professor's rooms as well."

Dobby nodded fervently and scrambled across the room.

Watching the scene, the Auror snorted with contempt and moved his eyes to the man next to Hermione, his disgusted look fixed into place. "Snape," he sneered.

Snape's body still shook, but Hermione could tell that he was making every effort to remain still.  Through clenched teeth, he replied, "O'Neil."

"It seems you've survived."  He paused, watching Snape carefully and added softly, "Pity."

Hermione felt a sudden urge to hex the man.  Instead, support came from a surprising person, as Harry blurted out, "Voldemort's been destroyed and we're alive because of Professor Snape."

The Auror flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, and his eyes widened with disbelief.  "You-Know-Who is dead?"

"As good as," Harry responded.

Snape's eyes narrowed.  "Your presence here is like clockwork.  Too late to be useful, as usual."  Snape's words had a cutting edge to them, but his breathing was becoming labored, and Hermione became worried.  His nerves seemed to be rebelling against his will.

She interrupted whatever response O'Neil had for Snape, imploring, "The professor's been hurt.  We need to get him help as soon as possible."

O'Neil didn't move, unconvinced or uncaring, but another Auror came forward to examine Snape.  The older witch leaned over him and poked and prodded his limbs with her wand, casting several spells, but saying little else.  

Her ministrations, though necessary, were noticeably irritating Snape.  As the witch touched his face, wiping off a bit of the Strengthening Salve, Snape's eyebrow twitched and his lips tightened into thin lines.  The fist which held his wand began shaking more with each invasion.

While the Auror worked, Hermione watched Severus carefully.  She knew his faults.  She was in love, not blind; but still she was a little surprised by the reaction he spurred in others.  He certainly had enemies within the Wizarding world, and not only those who followed Voldemort, as the conversation with O'Neil had shown.  Hermione could see how isolation could be appealing to a man like Severus.  

Stepping back to survey the group, the woman wrinkled her nose with distaste.  "What is that wretched stench?"

Meekly, Harry replied, "That would probably be us Ma'am."  

Facts and information were Hermione's forte and with confidence, so that some might think her a _know-it-all_, she relayed, "The smell couldn't be helped.  The cream on our skin is part of a potion to negate the effects of the Killing Curse."

"With which the professor was only recently hit," Harry interjected.

The Auror's eyes widened with disbelief.  With a new found interest, she grasped Snape's wrist, checking his pulse.  She then opened each of his eyes with her fingers, so that the whites showed, contrasting dramatically with his beetle black irises.  

Annoyed, Snape backed away sharply.  "I assure you madam, I am quite alive."

As if to add insult to injury, the witch simply clucked her tongue and conjured a stretcher.   She went to help him up, but the Potions Master would have none of that, shooing her away.  "Take that thing away.  I won't be carried out of here like an infant."  

He pushed the stretcher; it glided gently across the room, eventually bumping into the back of an unaware Auror.  Knowing Snape to be fiercely independent and proud, and not likely to back down, Hermione offered her arm.  He allowed her to support him, and together they slowly shuffled outside, so that they could return to Hogwarts. 

As they stepped out into the snow, the cold land was once again dark. There was a steady wind, which chilled the bones and moved the trees and snow around.  It was not violent, but it was far from gentle. As Hermione looked up, she could see no moon or stars; the sky was thickly covered with clouds.  

Though they were surrounded by Aurors, Hermione did not feel safe. With the knowledge that the Death Eaters may still be lingering, there was danger among the trees as they swayed with an insidious motion. The going was slow and tedious as Snape was hurt.   Their walk could not be helped though; they had to get beyond the magical barriers that kept them from returning to Hogwarts.  She was now cognizant of every movement, every step.  Every rustling of branches or fluttering of an owl's wings made Hermione glance sharply around.

To make matters worse, Dobby was stumbling and yelping and generally being a disturbance, as he followed closely behind.  The poor creature was trying to hold onto the stuffed bear and Crookshanks, both of which were nearly his size.  The snow reached his thighs, causing him to trip with each step.  As he landed face first, the cat and bear following suit, Crookshanks began howling and struggling loose.  Thankfully, Harry came to his rescue; the cat scrambled up onto his shoulders, clinging tightly to his sweater. 

"I wonder what shape the castle is in," Harry said absently, as he tried to pull the cat into his arms.

The consequences of the Dark Lord's defeat went beyond their lives, went beyond the lives of all those in the Wizarding world, and Harry's words made that realization concrete.  Other, deeper, questions began reeling through Hermione's mind:_   How had the world changed?  How many other victims had fallen to the Death Eaters?  What had happened to her parents?  Would anything ever be normal again?_

As the group took hold of the teddy bear, and a familiar tug pulled at her belly button, Hermione knew that the end was finally there.


	20. Every End is a New Beginning

A/N:  I normally do these at the end, but this chapter is the last, and so I've taken a different approach with it. After posting Chapter 19, I sat down and wrote a rough draft that, when I had finished, really didn't feel like an ending at all.     

I decided I needed something more general, but still emotionally charged.  My approach was inspired by msscribe's "Ginny Weasley Thinks She's in Love." (An amazing story that can be found at portkey.org) She has a poetic style that is very descriptive with feelings and actions, but hazy on everything else.  For example, I avoided using transition words, as well as Hermione's and Snape's names, rather saying "he, him, she, etc." Also, there's absolutely no dialogue in this chapter. I thought that might be a more appropriate way to approach an ending that really is simply a beginning to another story that will never be written.

**Echoes**

**Chapter 20:  Every End is a New Beginning**

For every ending, there is a new beginning; or so Hermione Granger had been told.

At that moment, however, as she walked across Hogwarts grounds, the saying had no meaning.  The future did not seem to exist; rather, the past had simply ended.   

In fact, there were no rational thoughts, only shock at having succeeded and lived; disbelief and awe at the castle she approached, no longer twisted and mangled, but grand and towering; and a restlessness stirring within her—a sense that what once was, may no longer be.  

It was an ending, nothing more.

~~~***~~~

The weeks following her return were a blur for Hermione.  Much occurred, but little was retained.  More than anything, she remembered the emotions that she felt.

An invasion… Of space, of privacy—people were everywhere, surrounding her from the moment she entered Hogwarts.  Somehow, the news of Voldemort's downfall had preceded them, though the details were still a mystery that they would need to fill in.  She felt caught up in a river's current, pushed and pulled; moved in the rush of people towards the hospital wing. 

She sat on an Infirmary bed, waiting, suffocating in the racket of dozens of voices that were too loud and foreign after such a long time in seclusion.  Hermione knew better, but still she hoped that Severus would give her some sign, a sideways glance or small nod.  

He did not.

The last image she had of him was his black robes billowing out the door.  Hermione didn't know if that familiar sight was comforting or ominous.  

~~~***~~~

It would be at least a month before she returned for school.  Though the castle now stood straight and tall, its towers reaching into the sky, much still needed to be done. Classes would begin in spring and continue through the summer holidays.  

Until then, there were investigations and questions, inquiries and interviews—anyone and everyone of importance seemed to want a moment of Hermione's time.  Sometimes it was all she could do to keep from screaming.

Meetings with family and friends, people she loved, and people who had lost loved ones.  Bittersweet reunions with Ron and the Weasleys—still a family, but not complete.  Many times, there was nothing she could do but cry.

It was weeks before she heard from _him again._

~~~***~~~

The shift back to Muggle life was an awkward one.  Hermione never felt completely at ease.  This was not surprising, for it had been several years since she'd had prolonged contact with her parents.  Joy at being reunited slowly turned into strained relations.  In many ways, she was living with strangers.  She certainly couldn't call it home.

She was lying in bed too early for actual sleep.   A self-imposed isolation—locked in her room, her mind was on _him_ as the pattering of spring rain hit the second floor windows and roof above.  When they were away from the world, in the _Dark__Land or the little cabin in the woods, all was right.  Now in this world, they were wrong.  How she longed to be alone again, alone with him.  When she closed her eyes, her memory of him became as clear as if he were lying above her:  his smell, his taste, the glint of his black eyes that could be both cold and passionate.  _

In rhythm with the rain, a tapping sounded against her window; so light at first that she didn't recognize it for what it was, but the noise became louder, more insistent. 

And then he was there.  

It was a surprise.   Suspended on a broomstick, only his pale skin showed through the window, while the rest of him, his hair and clothes, those eyes that bore into her soul, disappeared into the darkness of the wet night.  She gasped, then smiled a toothy grin and rushed to open the window.  With the wind and rain, he was inside, kissing her, pulling her tightly against him. 

They were silent, except for small whimpers and breaths against necks and skin, as they did away with their clothes and fell onto the small bed she'd had since she was six.  They moved together; her legs spread wide, his thrusts deepening within her.  

After, she stayed under him, enjoying the feel of his damp chest and his warm breaths.  He whispered reassurances.  He told her that they'd have to be careful.

She responded that she understood, and in truth she did.  Hermione was well aware of the difficulty of having an illicit affair at Hogwarts, and of the consequences they would face if they were found out, but the feel of him near her and the intimacy that had developed between them was too strong for her to resist.

And so, with one ending, came another new and dangerous beginning.

Fin.

A/N:  Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed the story, and a huge thanks to Molly(rhitmcshanm), who beta-ed all 20 chapters and has helped me immensely.  


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